Masquerade
by Maisy13
Summary: We all hide behind masks. Some for protection, some for concealment. Join Grissom as he and the team race to stop a serial killer. Written in conjunction with Sara's Journey. Rating for subject matter. WIP
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** CSI belongs to Anthony Zuiker and a bunch of other people, but I am not one of them.

**A/n:** Yes this is my new casefile, and for this I have decided to go along with what's happening on the show. But don't worry, Sara will make guest appearances. I'm writing this in conjunction with Sara's Journey. The interacton between the two will be with phone calls between Grissom and Sara, for now. You don't have to read both to understand them, they just play off each other in that one department. I will be updating this one every Monday or Tuesday, and Sara's Journey every Wednesday or Thursday. Thanks in advance for reading.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Grissom sighed, walked around his desk and sat down. He should have seen this coming. For months he'd seen a darkness in her eyes when she didn't know he was looking. Whenever he did ask her how she was doing, she'd say fine, then kiss him and he'd forget about what he'd been thinking. For the most part he'd spent the last few months wanting to just live in the moment, to be with her and forget that it could have all been taken away.

But still, he should have known something like this would happen. His initial feeling was hurt. Hurt that she'd leave him a letter and not tell him personally that she needed some time. After that initial response though, he could see the sense in it. He himself had needed a break last year, and he hadn't gone through near as much as her. Folding the letter and tucking it in the envelope, he stared at it a moment, then opened his left hand drawer and put it under his mothers Rosary beads. He had no doubt that she'd contact him when she was ready, and until then, he'd make sure all the bases were covered at work. First thing to do, talk to Ecklie.

* * *

Grissom walked down the hall a little amazed, his conversation with Ecklie having gone better than expected. Grissom had just told him that Sara had found that she wasn't as ready for the day to day work schedule as she thought she'd been, and after this last case it had all caught up with her, and she needed to take some time. Ecklie had wanted to know why Sara hadn't told him this personally, but Grissom just said that as her fiancé he was telling him for her. He'd shrugged and accepted it, but then asked when the big day was and Grissom had had to make him promise not to tell anyone about the engagement. He and Sara had decided that they wouldn't tell anyone until Sara was ready, and he didn't think she would appreciate it if when she came back, the whole lab was talking about it. He dropped by the locker room and checked her locker. Everything was there, her gun, her ID and everything else. It pointed more than anything to how much this wasn't planned. Sara was meticulous, and order ranked right up there. Had she been planning this the locker would be clean as a whistle. He closed it, making sure it locked, and turned to leave. Seeing a piece of paper on the floor, he picked it up and threw it away, noticing as he did the name tag reading Sidle. Picking it up, he gazed at it. Closing it in his hand, he walked quickly to his office and tucked it in beside the letter. Everything would be here waiting for her when she got back. Noticing the assignments waiting on him, he picked them up and went to pass them out and get the shift started.

* * *

Catherine looked up as Grissom entered the break room. She noted the slightly dazed look in his eyes, but before she could comment he cleared his throat, getting everyone's attention. "Okay guys, before we start I have an announcement to make. Sara is taking some time, so you won't be seeing her around. I know this doesn't affect this shift, but as her friends I didn't want you guys to worry. 

Nick and Greg looked at each other, worry in their eyes. They'd both seen how Sara had been taking the West case, and now to hear that she was taking some time, well, it didn't seem to bode well. Grissom started talking again, so they turned to him, hoping to learn more, but he was on to the assignments.

"Okay, Warrick and Nick, you have a 407Z at Lee's Discount Liquor out on North Rancho Dr. Looks like the owner shot a would be robber, but there could be more to it. Greg, assault at Adventuredome. Seems a couple of kids got into it at Laserblast and someone got knocked down, busted their head up pretty good. The two that were fighting ran away."

Greg grinned. "Cool, that day we all went there was great. Maybe after work we can go back and play a little. What do you say 'Rick? You could get a chance take back the title."

Warrick shook his head. "I hear that, but it'll have to wait until another time. I, uh, I got something to do after work."

Catherine watched as another shadow passed over Grissom's face. He turned to her. "Cath, you and I have a 419 out at Red Rock Country Club. Okay guys, see you later." He turned to Catherine. "I'll meet you at the car, I've gotta get something out of my office." Before she could say anything, he'd left.

* * *

Grissom climbed up into the Denali and clipped on his seat belt. When they didn't go anywhere, he looked over at Catherine. "I realize the body isn't going anywhere, but we shouldn't waste any time." 

Catherine watched him for a moment, and then pulled forward. "So, Sara's taking some time. That could be good for her. She did come back sooner than I'd expected."

Grissom's heart skipped a beat at her name. He cleared his throat, but only nodded. After a moment, Catherine continued. "So, how long will she be out?"

Grissom sighed. "I don't know. She'll come back when she's ready." He looked down at the file in front of him. "It might be best to take West Sahara, should be a straight shot this time of night. We need to go to the east entrance; the body is on hole eighteen."

Catherine wanted to say more, but she knew she would get anything else out of him, so she nodded. "West Sahara it is then."

They drove in silence. Catherine sighed in relief as they turned into the Country Club. Grissom was out of the car before she'd undone her seatbelt and she hurried to gather her kit and catch up with him. As she reached him, Jim came strolling up the walk towards them. "Hey guys. Body's back there. David is on his way, but I can tell you right now, no one has wanted to get too near."

He led them over to the middle of the green. Catherine gulped, her eyes glued to the woman. Her stomach rolled, and she swallowed to keep the doughnut she'd eaten earlier down.

Grissom squinted down at the woman. She'd been eviscerated. Her intestines piled next to her body. A hole had been cut over her heart, and the organ removed and placed in her right hand. Her breasts and genitals were intact, but her face had been peeled away, and from what he could see, it hadn't been left with the body. Flies hovered over the body, and flew in and out the open cavities of the chest and abdomen, as well as the mouth. She was naked, but for her socks, and her hair was up in a ponytail. It was possible she'd been jogging when she'd been abducted. He bent down to get a better look at the insect activity. The body looked to have only been there for a few hours. Looking back at Catherine he said, "I'd estimate that the body has been here for no more than two to three hours. As to whether she was dead before that, Doc will have to tell us that.

Catherine cleared her throat. "I heard that the dayshift had a case similar to this a few months ago. I'll get together with the lead on the case and see if there are any other similarities."

David walked up and looked down at the body. "Times like this I find it hard to believe there's any good in the world."

Grissom looked at him with a frown. "Right now, I'm finding it hard to disagree."

* * *

TBC… 

**A/n2:** Reviews are appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** CSI belongs to Anthony Zuiker and a lot of other people. I am not one of them.

**A/n:** Okay, as promised the rest of the phone call from Sara's Journey is in this. It may be a little OOC, but it's what I hope happened, and that's all that matters. :P:P Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I hope you like this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Catherine walked around the edge of the green on the eighteenth hole, using her flash light to see into the deepest shadows leading into the rough. She felt a little sick with herself for offering to take the area furthest from the body. She'd seen gory scenes before but for some reason this one was getting to her. She knew it was because of the way the body had been left. It was every woman's fear come true. She'd been thinking about things a lot since Sara's kidnapping. That could have just as easily been her, and it could have been a bigger monster than Natalie. She glanced back over to where Grissom was searching the grass near the body, and shivered. Turning back around, she squinted down at the grass a few feet away. It had been disturbed. She lifted her camera and snapped a shot. She reached forward and pushed the loose blades of grass to the side. Smiling she placed a marker by the deep footprint and snapped a shot. They'd get a nice mold out of that.

David sealed the last container and blew out an exhausted breath. "I'll never complain about working a pileup on the highway again."

Grissom sighed and looked up from taking photos of the ground under where the body had lain. "Sorry about that David." Grissom leaned over and looked for something he'd seen glinting in the weak sunlight. "This was obviously a body dump, and by dumping the body on the green and not somewhere in the rough, or as we've seen before, burying it in a sand hazard, the killer wanted it to be found. It's not likely we'll get a lot of evidence around the body, so our best bet IS the body."

David nodded and headed back to the coroners van saying over his shoulder, "I'll make sure Doc makes this a top priority."

Grissom, his attention on the far side of the dump site, absently nodded. "Thanks David." He edged his way around to where he'd seen the glint. "Well, I may have been wrong. Looks like our killer did leave something behind." He placed a marker beside the tool and clicked a few photos. Then very carefully he lifted the scalpel. He looked around the site and said. "Our killer is either very clumsy, or very smart."

* * *

Warrick looked around before downing a couple of pills and washing them down with water from the fountain. He straightened and started down the hall. Nick came out of the evidence locker and smiled at him. "Okay, every thing is logged in. You want to go get something to eat?" 

"I'm not really hungry, but I'll come and watch you stuff your face." He chucked Nick on the shoulder and smiled. As they walked by the assignment board Nick stopped to cross of their 407Z and hesitated as he saw Sara's name written beside his. Warrick stopped and looked too. "I hope she's doing okay. Maybe we should give her a call, take her out to lunch… or something." Nick suggested.

Warrick shook his head. "I don't think so. I talked to Hodges while you were logging in the evidence and he says that not only did she lay a big one on Grissom right in the middle of the lab, but she didn't even tell him she was leaving. He got it from Judy that she left him a letter and she looked really sad when she dropped it off, AND she saw her getting into a cab. Now I know that she had her car when she came in, so why take a cab? I don't know, I get the feeling that something else is up, but we'll never get a straight answer out of Grissom."

"You're listening to Hodges now?" Nick scoffed.

"Hey man, if there's one thing I know, you want the skinny on something going on in the lab, you go to Hodges. It may take some arm twisting, but he'll give you the goods." Warrick backed up and headed towards the door. "You coming?"

Nick nodded and followed him.

* * *

Catherine walked into the morgue and looked around, but only saw Doc bending over a body on the table. He looked up as she walked in. "Hey Doc, has Grissom been by? I was supposed to meet him here." 

"Haven't seen him yet, but if you want to wait, I'm fine with that."

"No, no. He'll be here soon. Go ahead and tell me what you've got." Catherine walked over and looked down at the body, now draped in a sheet.

"First off, the obvious. She's been eviscerated, and her heart has been cut out. The blade marks are clean and the incisions look professional. I don't suppose you found much blood at the scene." He looked up with an arched brow.

"Yeah, only trace amounts. How did you know?" She shook her head.

"First off David told me about the scene, but I would have guessed at it anyway." He pointed towards her right armpit. "She's been bled. I'd say it was at least a day before she was cut into. There are no changes to the epidermis around the incisions, and very little lividity. I'd say she was bled right after she was killed, so there was no chance for the blood to settle."

Cath sniffed and glanced around the room. "Do you know a time of death?"

"Best estimate is three days, it's hard to be accurate due to the things that have been done to the body." He reached down and pulled up to sheet to cover what was left of her face. "One more thing. She was raped. More than once. There are no ligature marks on her wrists or ankles. She was probably drugged but without blood it's going to be a while before we have any results. I drew what urine was left in her bladder, but there's no guarantee that it will yield anything." He took a deep breath and turned from the table to pick up two files. "This is the third time I've had a case like this on my table in a year. Each body is exactly the same way, and we've never been able to identify the drug used to subdue them. Sharp and Marks from day shift caught the other two, and you may want to talk to them. I'll know more after the full autopsy, but for now, I'd say cause of death will be asphyxiation. That's how the first two died, and I don't see any evidence that this will be any different."

Catherine nodded and took the files. "Thanks Doc. Let me know as soon as you know more." She took one last look at the body, then turned and left.

* * *

Grissom had been headed down to autopsy when his phone rang. Without checking who it was he answered. "Grissom." 

"Hey Gil, it's me." Sara's voice reached out to him over the phone. Grissom stopped in the middle of the hall, his chest clinching at the sound of her voice.

"Sara? Sara where are you?" He moved to a bench by the wall and sat down.

"I-I'm sorry I left like I did, but it had to be this way." Sara voice wobbled as she talked.

"Sara, honey, where are you?" Grissom asked again, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

"I'm on my way to San Francisco. That's where this all started, and that's where it'll end. I don't want you to worry. I know what I'm doing, and I have to do it alone."

"Sara…" Grissom took a deep breath and sighed. "I can't say I'm happy. I keep telling myself that you haven't left me, but… that's what it feels like."

"NO! No, I haven't left you!" She sniffed, and gulped. "Don't ever think that. This is just something I have to do alone, and I never would have done it if I hadn't acted when I did. Gil, you're… you're everything to me. Being with you makes me the happiest person in the world. I have to know that you'll be there after I've done this. You know what it's like need a break. You knew enough to know when to take it. I didn't. I've let my past rule many of my actions. I've kept fears buried. I've told you about my past. I've told you more than I've ever told ANYONE. Believe me; every fiber of my being wants you here with me. But as well as I know this is going to be hard, I know that if you were here I'd use you to forget, escape in you and delay what needs to happen. I can't do that. You need to be strong. So do I. I-I should go, but I'll keep in touch. I don't think I could make it without at least hearing your voice. And we'll be together again soon, I promise."

Grissom sighed. "Okay. I understand, but I'll miss you." Grissom was silent a minute. "I love you. I'll be dreaming of your kisses, especially after that one you laid on me before you left." He smiled for the first time, and heard her giggle.

"Well, I had to say goodbye." She sighed. "I do have to go now. I'll call you later though."

"Okay, bye." He heard her softly whispered goodbye before the phone went dead. He sat there, his eyes closed for several minutes. He opened them only when he heard footsteps coming closer. He found Catherine coming towards him.

"Hey, I thought you were going to meet me in autopsy." She sat down beside him.

He nodded and gestured with his phone. "I got a phone call. Sorry, did you learn anything?"

She filled him in on what Doc had told her. "He'll let us know more after the full autopsy."

"Okay, well I printed that scalpel I found, nothing, but there was also no trace of blood, so I'm thinking it was planted." He got up and she followed. "This guy is smart. Maybe too smart."

Judy came down the hall towards them. "Dr. Grissom, someone sent this to you. It says it's urgent, so I thought I should find you right away." She handed him an envelope.

"Thank you Judy." She smiled and headed back down the hall. He turned the envelope around and saw his name written on it. Thoughts of the last letter he received played through his mind as his opened it. He pulled out the single sheet of paper and unfolded it. Only one thing was on it. It read, 'It's only a matter of time.' He turned it around and showed it to Catherine. "He may be smarter than me."

* * *

**TBC…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own CSI, its characters, or merchandizing. I do love the show and would like to remind the people that DO own it that Christmas is coming up and just a small share in it would make a dandy gift. :D:D

**A/n:** First of all thanks to everyone who reviewed, it just makes my day to see those alerts in my inbox. :P:P Now, today I read the new CSI book by Ken Goddard and I have to say it was really good, but in all honesty, it wasn't better than some of my favorite fan fiction writers could do, and have done. Above all I value a story that is in-character, and then that it tells a good story, or maybe those two are tied, but you know what I mean. Well anyway, I found Mr. Goddard's work to be, for the most part, in-character, but there were a couple of slips. It actually kind of feels like someone who didn't know the characters that well wrote the book. For instance, everyone kept calling Hodges, David. Now I know that his name is David, but we also have David Phillips, and calling them both David confuses a person. Plus, no one, aside from Grissom when he's talking to Hodges personally, sometimes, ever calls Hodges, David, and they all certainly call him Hodges when talking business. Them calling him David all over the place kinda took me out of the book a bit, and it took a while to regain my footing. It was a good book though. And there IS cannon GSR in it. Just a little, (think season 6 hints) but it is there. That being said, there are many writers here that can entertain me just as well, free of charge, and for that I thank you. :D:D

**Spoilers:** Anything up to and including "You Kill Me" Just in case.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Catherine walked quickly back to Grissom, snapping on a pair of gloves. Mandy walked behind her, carrying a paper bindle. Reaching Grissom, she reached for the letter. "Okay, hand it to me and we'll get it printed right away." She transferred the letter to the bag, and sealed it. Handing it to Mandy she said, "This is top priority. No matter where we are, tell us as soon as you get any results." Mandy nodded and headed back to the print lab as quickly as she could. Turning back to Grissom, she smiled. "Maybe we caught a break."

Grissom shook his head. "I doubt it. This guy isn't stupid enough to leave prints on a letter he had delivered to me." Grissom turned and headed for his office.

Catherine followed. "Well, I don't know about the letter, but there is something that might prove to be useful." Entering his office, Grissom headed for his desk and sat down. Catherine followed and dropped into the chair opposite him.

Grissom sighed and pulled open his left hand drawer. He pulled out a notebook and saw Sara's name tag sitting there. He closed the drawer, picked up his glasses and asked. "What have you found?"

Catherine leaned forward. "Remember that footprint that I found near the rough? Well I found another one a few feet away from it. Now, there weren't many full prints. The ground in the woods adjacent to the green was dry, the only reason there was such a good one on the edge of the rough is because the club has been watering the green, which they're not supposed to do, but I think we'll let them slide, this once, because though the other prints were sparse, there was a definite trail leading through the wood, and to a parking lot. The trail could have ended there, but there were dirt clumps by the space closest to where the trail led out of the wood, and there were fresh oil drops in that space. It doesn't give us much, but that parking lot has surveillance, and it's mainly used for one of the clubs many, many cocktail lounges. Now with this being Vegas, of course there is gambling and people are in and out of there all night, SO, if we can match the oil from the car, to a car that uses that brand on the video, then we might get a little closer to identifying the person who dumped the body, and most likely the killer." Catherine fell back in her seat with a satisfied grin, but when Grissom didn't react, she sat forward again. "C'mon Gil. I know it's not much, but it's more than we had an hour ago."

He looked up at her and nodded. "I agree. Warrick and Nick are finished with their case. Have Warrick check in with Hodges, see if he's got an ID on the type of oil, then have him cross reference that with the vehicles that use that brand. It could be a shot in the dark, but if we find something it'll be worth it. Also, get Nick to work with Archie to go over that video footage. The body was only out there a few hours, so it shouldn't take long, then Nick and Warrick can get together to eliminate all the cars that wouldn't use that brand or type. Once that's done, they can go to the lounge and question them as to who was there last night, and get a list of the members that have cars that would match, and were at the club." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. "It was a good catch Catherine. It could be just the break we needed."

Catherine watched him for a moment. This was one of those exhilarating moments in a case that the investigators reveled in, but Gil wasn't excited at all. She watched as his eyes shifted down to the desk, catching on a framed photo. She leaned forward and looked at it. It was a picture of Sara, obviously taken when the CSI didn't know she was being photographed. She was kneeling at a crimescene, smiling at someone off screen. Her hair was up and she had dirt on her face, but her smile outshone the grime. Catherine looked back at Grissom, whose eyes were riveted to the picture. "She's not just taking a few days, is she?"

Grissom jerked, his eyes darting to Catherine before returning to the picture. "She's been slowly breaking for weeks, months even. I knew something wasn't quite right, but I ignored it. Thought all she needed was time. When we were together she… she was happy. At least I think she was happy. She always seemed to be. But… how could she have been. How could I have not seen that it was a mask? She's gone. She left me a letter telling me that she didn't want me to see her break." He looked up at her, his eyes glistening, and Catherine caught her breath. She'd never seen him like this; no one would ever believe the sight before her. The aloof Gil Grissom, with tears in his eyes. "It's my fault. I didn't see what I should have seen, and now she's gone."

"Gil. None of this is your fault. Sara wouldn't want you to think that. If she had sense enough to know that she couldn't take much more, and that she had to leave to… to."

Grissom cut in. "She said she needs to lay her ghosts to rest."

"Okay, she had to leave to lay her ghosts to rest, but she didn't leave YOU, Gil. That woman has… how should I put this? She's been hot for you since the moment she walked into this lab. And probably before that. You know, you guys may have been able to keep your relationship a secret, but honey, there was never a moment that Sara's feelings for you weren't perfectly clear." She smiled. "That phone call earlier was from her, wasn't it?"

Grissom nodded. He couldn't believe he'd been so transparent. He wasn't sure if it were a good thing that Catherine was the one to catch him in a weak moment, but it was nice to hear her words. "Yeah, she called to say she was alright. She said she'd be back when she was done."

"See there. Nothing to worry about. You just concentrate on the case, and the time will just fly by." She got up and headed for the door. "After all, she couldn't even wait a whole day before calling you. No way she's going to make it a whole week without doing it again. Now, I'm going to go see that everything gets done. You pull yourself together and meet me in the layout room in an hour. I've scheduled to meet with Marks and Sharp from days to go over their cases. Don't worry, this guy can't hide forever, and he's getting sloppy. He also making it personal, and that is the beginning of the end." She smiled then turned and left.

Grissom stared after her for a moment, then opened his left hand drawer once again. Taking out Sara's name tag, he ran his fingers over it and then tucked it into his pocket. It wouldn't hurt for her to feel a bit closer.

* * *

Greg whistled as he walked down the hallway. He wished all his cases were that easy. The two kids responsible hadn't even left the park. Luckily the woman who'd busted her head was going to be okay, and the kids wouldn't be punished, and hopefully learn a much needed lesson about how to conduct themselves in public. Now he was at loose ends and thought he'd check with Grissom and see if he needed any help. He stopped to take a sip from the water fountain and saw Grissom head into his office, Catherine right behind him. Okay, he'd just give Catherine a few minutes to state her business then go in to see what he could help with. After five minutes though he got the feeling that he'd be standing around all night if he kept waiting for Catherine to come out. He sidled up to the door, preparing to knock when he heard Catherine say. "She's not just taking a few days, is she?" He stopped still. They were talking about Sara. He listened to Grissom go on about how he should have seen this coming, and all he could think was, "Hell yeah, you should have." He stayed long enough to hear Grissom say that Sara was gone before taking off down the hall, his mind racing. When he'd found out that Grissom and Sara had been seeing each other for two years he'd been cool with it. Sara was his best friend, and if she was happy, then he was happy, but it seemed that she was no longer happy, and had not only left the lab for a few days, but it seemed she'd left Grissom as well, and gone off to God knows where. He'd worked up quite a head of steam by the time he'd reached the breakroom. It was just like Grissom not to see that the people around him were hurting. Greg had seen how down she had been a few weeks ago, so Grissom should have seen it. Now she was gone with not even a goodbye to him, or the other members of the team. He jerked open the fridge and grabbed his last Red Bull. Pulling the tab he slammed it back and drank it in one go. Crushing the can to vent his frustration, he realized that there was nothing he could do about the situation. Needing something to do, he headed off to find someone to give him something to do. Anything would do, and anyone, besides Grissom.

* * *

Grissom left his office, heading for reception. He needed to ask Judy a few questions, and it was best to do it now, before too much time passed. He found her sitting at her computer, playing solitaire. "Oh, hello Dr. Grissom Sir. Is there something I can do for you?" She nervously moved away from the computer, hoping he hadn't noticed her playing during work hours. He had noticed, but her use of time at work was the least of his worries. 

"Hey Judy, I need to ask you a few questions. Did you get a good look at the person who delivered that letter?"

Judy thought back, her mind racing to place a picture with the letter. It wasn't one of the normal delivery people, but there were tons of deliveries being made every day, and sometimes new ones showed up. "I'm sorry Dr. Grissom, but there was nothing about him that stood out. Just an ordinary delivery person." Judy bit her lip and mentally kicked herself. When was she going to learn to pay better attention to the people who came in everyday? First she was fooled by the janitor that had kidnapped Sara, and you'd think she'd learn from that, but no. Now she was disappointing Dr. Grissom, again.

"Do you remember the color of his delivery uniform?" Grissom asked, trying not to sound as impatient as he felt. "Hair color, eye color? Was he cute? Have a nice butt? Surely you noticed something." Grissom had been assured by Sara that women always noticed if a guy looked good or not.

Judy blushed. "Well, he um, he was taller than you, by about a head. I guess he was about your age. Dark brown hair, receding on top, brown eyes. He didn't have the normal delivery guy look. He was clean cut, wore dark trousers and a tan jacket. He was handsome, in a trying too hard kind of way." Judy smiled at having remembered so much.

"That's very good Judy. Now, did he say anything?" Grissom tapped his foot lightly on the floor, trying to restrain his impatience.

Judy thought back, trying to remember what she'd said. Well, she'd started with her normal greeting. "Hello, welcome to the Las Vegas Crime Lab. How can I help you?" Then he'd said…"He said, 'Hi there cutie.' I remember because I thought, 'who calls someone cutie these days?', anyway, then he said, 'Can you make sure Gil get's this?' I said, 'Dr. Grissom?', and he said, 'Yes, Dr. Gil Grissom.' Then he handed me the note and… well then he winked and turned and left. I do remember I couldn't believe he actually winked. Seemed quite full of himself actually."

Judy nodded, relieved to have remembered so much. Though she was sure that there was something else, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. That wink just kept coming to mind. Grissom smiled, happy to have as much as she'd given him. "Thank you Judy. That was very good. I'll let you get back to your game now."

"Oh, but I wasn't really…," But she was talking to empty air. Grissom had already started down the hall, and he didn't look back. "…playing." She finished lamely. She sat down determined not to let her mind wander from her job again. Ten minutes later, she was trying to find a way to clear a line of cards. Some habits are hard to break.

* * *

Catherine walked into the layout room five minutes before she was due there, but the day shift CSI's, Sharp and Marks, were already there. "Hey fellas, thanks for coming in so early." She walked to the light table and laid down her file across from the two already sitting there. 

"No problem." Marks, the older of the two, answered. "Way we look at it we get this off out hands if it's the same guy."

Catherine grimaced and opened the file. "Hmm, nice to know you guys are there for the victims." Catherine mumbled as she began sorting through photographs.

Sharp made to address her not so veiled accusation, but Grissom walked in and he thought better of it. Marks however, had something to say. "Look, our plates are full, and you can't blame us for not wanting to keep a dead case on our books."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Dead case? But this is a fresh murder, and if this IS the same guy, it'll be a huge step in closing the case. So it's anything but dead."

"Yeah, you say that now, but just wait until every trail leads back to nothing. We thought, like you, that we'd find that piece of evidence that would catch the guy, but every trail turned cold. Frankly the guys a ghost in the wind, and he'll probably kill a lot more before he messes up enough to get caught, and I'd rather not have my name down on the books as the one that let him get so far. You're welcome to him." Sharp spoke as he walked to the other side of the table.

Grissom looked at Catherine and saw his on amazement written on her face. These guys took the cake. No wonder day shift was losing CSI's by the handful. Grissom cleared his throat. "Okay gentlemen. If you'll just lay out what you have for us, you can get back home and catch a little more shuteye before your shift starts."

Sharp opened a file and read off the name. "Nancy Curtis, 35. Vice president of the First Union bank, Henderson branch. She was single, had no living family and rarely dated. She did mention to co-workers that she had started seeing someone, but didn't mention any names. She was found on the eight hole of the Black Mountain Golf and Country club in Henderson, October sixth, two thousand and six. Her heart had been removed and she had been eviscerated. Her face had also been cut away. There was a retractor left at the scene, clean. It led nowhere as anyone could pick one up at a medical supply store. We checked the local hospitals and they don't keep up with how many small medical instruments are lost in a day. The medical supply store hadn't sold any single retractors. That means it could have been taken from the hospital or from a bulk shipment sent out to… well anywhere. So it lead to nothing. No other evidence was found in the field. The victim had also been raped, but it was later determined that there was nothing that lead to the rapist. She was torn up pretty well though, so we believe she was raped with a foreign object. Victim number two was Phyllis Johnson, 38. She was a successful commercial realtor here in Vegas, single, but with a big local family. She was found at the sixteenth hole on the golf course at the Stallion Mountain Country Club on March fifteenth, two thousand and seven. Same thing, she'd been eviscerated, heart cut out, and face cut off. She had also been raped, and it was determined that it was also with a foreign object. We didn't find any medical instruments around the body, but gauze was found in the open wounds. It had to have been put there post mortem, because it sure as hell wasn't meant to staunch the flow of blood. Both victims had been bled. Very little blood was at the scenes, and we came up with a big fat goose egg." As he talked he'd laid out all the relevant photos and notes.

Marks nodded and stepped forward. "And now you're all caught up. See ya in the funny papers." He turned, and with a slight nod to Sharp, walked out the door. Sharp followed.

Catherine turned to Grissom. "Well, I hope they kept better notes than that." She started to study the file pages.

"Yeah, but we're going to catch this guy, and they'll be the ones with egg on their face. There are already several differences with this victim." Grissom hunkered down and studied the photographs.

"How's that?" Catherine asked, distracted.

"Well for one, he's made contact with me. For another he didn't rape this one with a foreign object. He's escalating, and that means he's getting sloppy. We'll catch him, and when we do, Marks and Sharp will feel pretty dull indeed."

* * *

**TBC…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI. For a list of who does, see the CBS website.

**A/n:** Sorry kiddies, I'm way, way tired this week. I've been working just about 7 day weeks for the last few weeks and it's catching up to me. I was just too exhausted to write anything on the case, I'd probably really mess it up, so I stuck to the GSR. Hope you can forgive me. To those reading Sara's Journey, you'll enjoy the phone call from there. Also, I hope chapter 5 will be up on time, but if not, believe me there IS a reason. I know this is short, but I hope you like it. Thanks to all who have reviewed. I really appreciate it. :D:D

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Grissom turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. Silence met him as the door swung shut. The air was cold and all signs of life were missing. On the hall table sat the mail from yesterday and the vase of flowers that Sara usually replaced every couple of days were now drooping, and a couple of petals had fallen onto the table. He laid his keys on the table beside them and shrugged off his jacket. He hung it up on the hall coat tree and headed into the living room. Everything looked the same, but it felt so terribly empty. He walked down the hall to the bedroom and stopped in the doorway. The bed was made just the way they'd left it that morning, and the dresser was scattered with proof of her presence. A hair brush lying on the edge, like she'd run it though her hair in a hurry and threw it down as she rushed out. A couple of necklaces scattered about, discarded in her search for a particular piece. All signs that their owner had every intention of straightening them when she got home. But she wouldn't be hanging up those beaded chains, and tucking the hair brush next to the hand mirror and comb.

He walked over and picked it up, running his fingers through the soft bristles. He'd bought her the sterling silver set while he'd been in Maryland. He sat down on the corner of the bed, his mind wondering back a couple of months. She'd just come back from the hospital…

* * *

"_Damn." Sara muttered as she tried to pull the brush though her hair. Grissom looked up from his book and watched as she struggled with the brush. _

"_What are you doing?" He questioned with a small smile, watching as she struggled with her hair. _

"_I'm trying to bring some semblance of order to this mop on top of my head, but doing it one handed is turning out to be harder than I thought." She threw the brush down and propped her head on her good hand, her eyes meeting his in the mirror. "And you can get that smirk off your face right now." _

_He shook his head. "It's not a smirk, it's a smile. You just look so cute." He smiled and slid off of the bed. He walked over to her and laid his hands on her shoulders. Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head. "Come here; let me take this mop off your hands." He picked up the brush and took her hand and led her to the bed. He sat down, his back braced against the headboard and helped her to slip up and make her self comfortable between his legs. Slowly he pulled the brush though her hair, feeling the soft curls pull slightly as they passed though the bristles. As he stroked, she relaxed more and more, until she was leaning fully into him, her eyes drooping. He finished and laid the brush aside. Wrapping his arms around her, he nuzzled his face into the crook of her shoulder. "God Sara, I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here to hold." _

_She whispered. "Well don't worry baby, I'm right here."_

_

* * *

_Grissom's eyes snapped open, and he stared down at the brush in his hands. Brushing her hair had become a nighttime routine. Same as when she shaved him. Standing up, he returned the brush to its correct spot on the dresser, and hung the necklaces back up. He looked up into the mirror and sighed at the haggard look of his face. He needed to sleep. He looked at the bed in the mirror and knew he wouldn't be sleeping in it. Not yet at least. He quickly undressed and threw on some pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, then grabbed Sara's pillow and headed back to the living room where he laid it on the couch. Striding into his study he pulled the light quilt Sara liked to cuddle in off of her chair and took it to put with the pillow. He went to the kitchen, pulled a beer out of the fridge then walked back, wrapping the quilt around himself and settled down on the couch, his head nestled in the pillow, her scent wafting up to tantalize him. He flipped on the television to the Discovery channel, and found that Mythbusters was on. Twisting the cap off his beer, he sat back to watch as Adam and Jamie tried to disprove the ninja walking on water myth. 

He'd fallen asleep before the end of the show, his dreams filled with him chasing Sara over water, where she glided swiftly over it and he kept sinking in deeper. He was jolted awake by the ringing of the telephone. Groggily he reached over onto the end table and picked it up. "Grissom."

There was silence for a moment, then. "Hey Gil." He sat up with a jerk and almost dropped the phone.

"Sara?" He swung his legs around and planted his feet on the floor. "Hey, hey it's good to hear from you."

He heard a sigh across the line and then. "Oh, you sound sleepy. I'm sorry, I didn't think about what time it was."

"That's okay, you can call me anytime. So…, how are you doing?"

He heard a sniff, and then she whispered. "I miss you. I miss your arms around me. I miss your kiss, and the way you brush my hair."

Grissom sighed. "I miss you too. I just dreamt that you were running away from me over a vast ocean and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't catch you, I just kept sinking."

"Oh baby, you have me. I just need to fix this one thing, and we'll be together forever."

Grissom nodded, though she couldn't see him. "I know. That's what I get for watching Mythbusters before going to sleep." He told her about the myth they'd been trying to disprove.

Sara laughed and felt a little of the tension leave her shoulders. "I do love you SO much."

"And I love you, sweetheart." He was about to ask her where she was when there was a beep on the phone.

"Is that call waiting?" She asked, wondering who was calling.

"Yeah, but it can wait. I want to talk to you." He sighed at another beep.

"No, you should take it. My battery is low anyway, I'll call you back later, when I've charged the phone, or I'm on a land line. It helps me to just hear your voice. Talk to you later."

Grissom was irritated at the interruption, but accepted it. "Okay, I'll talk to you later. I love you. Bye."

Sara cleared her throat. "Bye."

After a second the phone was quiet and he hit the button to pick up the other call. "This had better be good."

Catherine huffed. "Well Grumpy, it is. We've identified the victim."

"And that couldn't have waited until I came in?" He asked, getting up and heading for the kitchen and hopefully something to eat.

"No it couldn't. The vic's name is Angela Oliver. She was LVPD. This case just took on a whole new dimension."

Grissom stopped mid stride. "Yes, it certainly does."

* * *

**TBC…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Nope, still own nothing, nada, zilch.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"So, what do all the victims have in common?" Catherine opened the file in front of her and pulled up a photo of Nancy Curtis. "First victim was a bank vice president in her mid thirties, she was brunette, with brown eyes. She lived alone, no family. She had been seeing someone, and told some co-workers this before she disappeared, but no one knows who."

Nick opened his file folder, and picked up the photo of Phyllis Johnson. "Second vic was a commercial realtor, also in her mid-thirties and also brunette with brown eyes. She lived alone, but had family in the area. No one knows if she was seeing anyone.

Grissom opened his folder and added in what knew about the last victim. "Angela Oliver. As far as we know she was single, lived alone, had no family. She'd been a member of the LVPD for ten years. And she was brunette and had brown eyes.

"All three victims were found with their hearts cut out and placed in their right hands, they had been eviscerated and their intestines placed beside them, and their faces had been removed, and uh, not left behind." Catherine shivered as she thought about the possible reasons for this.

Greg cleared his throat and addressed Catherine. "So, why does he remove their faces, hearts and intestines?"

Grissom shook his head. "It's not our job to know why, Greg." Grissom continued with the facts, not noticing the glare that Greg sent him. "There was also a medical implement left at the site of each victim, each of which was left on a golf course, at different country clubs…"

"But if we can figure out the why, won't that give up a better handle on the who?" Greg cut in.

Grissom squinted at him. "Okay Greg, why don't you tell us why you think these parts were removed."

Greg sighed. "I didn't say I knew why, but since you ask, the uh, the face could've been removed in the hope of delaying identification. Maybe the message of removing the heart was to show that she gave her heart too easily and that's why it was placed in her hand, and the intestines could have been removed because of… well, I don't know why they were removed, but the killer had a reason. If we knew that reason it might help us get closer to him." Greg finished, his head of steam running out.

Grissom studied him thoughtfully for a moment. "Okay Greg, why don't you look into that. But I may have to pull you in case something comes in." He turned to the others. "The victims were single, had high profile jobs, were all brunette with brown eyes, and they were all found on high profile golf courses. They were all raped with a foreign object and bled." He looked up at Nick. "Anything from the surveillance tapes yet?"

Nick shook his head. "The only camera that could pick up cars going to that part of the lot also picks up the cars going to the access road on the other side of the lounge. So far we've counted over two hundred cars, and we've still got a few hours of video to look at."

Grissom looked to Warrick. "And the oil?"

Warrick nodded. "Yeah, my next stop after this is to check in with Hodges, he said he should have results today."

"Good, so after you get that, share it with Nick, and then get started on the hospitals. The medical implements that were found with the vics probably came from one of those, and though it's unlikely, maybe we can find out which hospital may be missing some."

Catherine looked down when her cell beeped. Checking the display she answered with a, "Hey Doc, are you ready for us?"

While she talked to him, Warrick cleared his throat. "Hey Gris, is it true that you received a letter from the killer?"

Grissom shook his head. "Right now we have no proof that the letter came from this killer. Mandy is fingerprinting the letter, and we're looking into it, but until we can confirm it, I don't want to list it as part of the investigation."

Catherine hung up and looked at them. "Doc's finished with the autopsy." She looked at Grissom and nodded. "You want to go with me?"

"Sure, and after that you can get started on that footprint, and I'll go meet Jim. Okay guys, you know what to do, let's get going." Grissom nodded to the others as the left.

* * *

Warrick strolled down the hall, heading for the Trace lab. He brought up his hand to stifle a yawn, and paused to take out a bottle of pills, popping one before continuing down the hall. He entered the lab to find Hodges bent over fiddling with something. Warrick watched for a few moments and then cleared his throat. Hodges jumped, and turned around. "Oh, Warrick. I didn't see you there."

Hodges shoved something into a cabinet and closed the door. "What can I do for you?"

Warrick eyed him suspiciously, where were the snarky comments? "Yeah, Hodges do you have the results on that oil sample?"

"Um, yeah, yeah they're here somewhere." He dug through some papers and plucked one out and handed it to Warrick. "The oil is a high grade synthetic. It's used exclusively in expensive foreign made vehicles." He turned around and started straightening some papers.

Warrick stood there, mouth open. "Uh, yeah is that all?"

"What else to you want?" Hodges asked without turning around.

"Well, I don't know. A list of possible models? You normally do a little more than just analyzing the sample." Warrick half smiled, expecting Hodges to turn around with his trademark smirk. He was to wait in vain.

"Well I figured you could handle that part of the job. It IS what you're supposed to do, right?" Hodges finally turned around. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got work to do." He turned away and Warrick shrugged, heading off to find a computer.

* * *

Grissom and Catherine stepped into the morgue and stopped in their tracks. Doc was standing on a small step stool, trying to reach up into the top shelf of a tall cabinet. He started to wobble and Grissom acted quickly, rushing over to steady him.

Catherine gasped. "What the hell are you doing?!" She rushed over and helped Grissom guide him down.

Doc cleared his throat and grabbed the crutch that Grissom handed to him. "I was completely fine. If you hadn't startled me everything would have been okay." He hobbled over to the table where a file lay. "But since you did, one of you can get up there and get that box of table drapes for me."

Catherine rolled her eyes, but climbed up and pulled down the box. "Why didn't you just get David to get this for you?"

Doc huffed and hobbled over to take the box from her. "For one thing he's not here, and I needed it. For another, I'm not incapable of getting stuff down from those shelves. I do it all the time." He put the box on an empty gurney and shuffled over to pick up the file. "And you're here to find out the results of the Oliver autopsy." He handed Grissom the file. "As you know, like the others she was raped with a foreign object, but unlike the others she didn't die of asphyxiation. She died of an overdose of Methohexital, a drug used as a general anesthesia. I found no obvious injection marks from any of the usual injection points, and I searched the rest of her body, and found nothing. The drug acts quickly when administered intravenously, so had she been injected, if indeed she was given only one dose, she would have suffered cardiac arrest immediately after an overdose. The drug cannot be detected in blood after twenty four hours so it would have been easily found, even in the small quantity of blood that was left, had she died so quickly after injection." Doc walked around to a gurney and lifted the sheet. "There are two other options for how it was administered. One, it could have been done rectally, or two, she could have ingested it. Ingestion isn't a common method for administering the drug, but I found no signs that she had been given it by rectal means, so ingestion is the only thing left that would give the killer time with her unconscious body before she died, and still left enough in the blood for me to detect it. Whatever the case, this is a highly dangerous drug, and is only to be used in a hospital setting, so no bum off the street is going to be getting his hands on it. I'd say your killer works in a hospital, and has access to the drug there."

Catherine stared down at the file. "That's the only thing that makes sense. There are too many other, more easily acquired drugs that could have been used to sedate the victims. Did you find any traces of the drug in them?"

"No, the drug was probably already out of their system by the time they were killed, and any remnants disappeared when they were bled. Even in Ms. Oliver the drug was very hard to detect, and would have had to have been administered orally twenty-four to, on the outside, twenty-six to twenty-seven hours before death." Doc covered the victim back up. "How long was she missing before she was found?"

"We don't know yet, we just found out who she was. I'm going to meet up with Brass in a few minutes and we'll start by asking her co-workers when the last time they saw her was." Grissom turned towards the door. "Well, if that's all Doc, I'll let you get back to work."

"Actually there was one more thing. Her stomach contents contained the remnants of an Italian dinner. My guess is she had veal scaloppini, and tiramisu as her last meal." He shrugged. "Not bad as last meals go." He couldn't smile though. No one deserved to die like this, and he was getting tired of seeing the cases come across his desk, as it were.

Grissom nodded, and he and Catherine walked out the swinging door, and headed for their separate destinations.

**TBC….**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Nope, I didn't get them for Christmas, so nothing belongs to me.

**A/n:** Well, I hope everyone had a very happy Christmas, Eid, Hanukkah, and whatever else you celebrate. I got season seven, so I'm quite happy. :D:D

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"So if our time frame is correct, this should be the last hour of footage that we need to check." Nick shifted in his seat, and picked up his stale cup of coffee.

"Yeah, and not that watching the parade of cars hasn't been thrilling… who am I kidding? This has to be the dullest video I've had to watch in my entire career." Archie stretched in his chair, turning his neck in either direction so that it cracked. "Ahhhhh, that feels better." He twisted around, gripping the back of his chair with one hand, the other on the arm rest and did the same with his back.

Nick cringed each time Archie's back popped. "Gah, man that is the worst sound!"

Archie grinned. "Ah come on man, maybe it don't sound pretty, but when you sit on your butt as much as I do, you need to stretch out a lot. The popping is only the sound of gases escaping from spaces in your vertebra, what really matters is that your giving your strained muscles a good stretch, and releasing pressure that the gasses create. Watch this." He grabbed the back of his head, and pulled it up, causing several pops to sound from his neck. He laughed at the look on Nick's face. "Hey, don't knock it till you try it man. I'm good to go another couple of hours now."

Nick shook his head, feeling a twinge in his neck. Shrugging he tried it, using the palm of his hand to twist his neck to one side, then the other. A chorus of pops and cracks issued, but he felt immediate relief in his neck. He rolled his head, stretching all the muscles. "Man, that does feel good, but what I really need is a massage." He stood up and stretched. "I haven't been getting too much sleep lately. I bought my nephew a Wii for his birthday, and we had so much fun playing, I ended up buying one for myself. I go home thinking I'll just play a little, and before I know it, half the afternoon has passed. I think I'm going to have to put myself on a Wii restriction." He laughed at his joke, and so did Archie.

"Yeah man, you really have to schedule yourself well on the game playing. I just got the complete Star Wars Wii game, and I seriously have to watch how much time I spend playing it, it's addictive."

"Really, it's that good? I was thinking of getting that game for my nephew, but I wasn't sure if it would be interesting enough. You think it'll hold his attention?"

"Sure, plus it's kid friendly. Why don't you come over this weekend and try it out." Archie offered, reaching for his diet coke.

"Hey, are you two making a date?" Warrick strolled in with a grin on his face.

"You could say that, you want to come over too? Maybe we could get Greg and make it a real boy's night." Archie smiled. "Unless you got something better to do, maybe the old ball and chain ain't quite as detached as you think it is."

"Nah, that thing has been detached and I sent it sailing into outer space." He spun a chair around and straddled it. "So, you guys about done?"

"Just about, we've got one more hour to go. If you want, you can have the list of cars we have so far so you can get started. Though I have to warn you, the list is long, and most of the cars on it would use the oil that was found. We got license plate numbers for them all, but that doesn't mean much. We can't just bring the owners in for driving in the vicinity of the place where a car that MIGHT have transported a dead body MIGHT have been parked. We're going to have to find some other leads that we can substantiate with this one." Nick handed over the list, five pages filled with makes, models and license numbers. "Have fun."

Warrick sighed and stood up. "And the beat cops say we have it easy. I'd like to see them not only find a needle in a haystack, but then place it in the hands of the last person to use it." Nick and Archie laughed as they watched him leave.

They sobered and turned back to the video. Nick sighed. "He has a point. Let's get this thing done."

* * *

"Hey, you ready to do this?" Grissom asked as he walked up to Brass. 

"Yeah, it's never a good day when you have to investigate the death of one of your own, and questioning friends and co-workers is never fun." Brass turned and lead the way into the building. As they passed they attracted stares. It was nothing new to see Detective Jim Brass and CSI supervisor Gil Grissom at the North Las Vegas P.D., but they were all aware of the circumstances that had brought them to this small precinct. The two stopped at the only enclosed desk in the room. "Hey Carl, how are you holding up?" Brass directed his question at the man sitting at the desk.

Captain Carl Pregar was a short, round man. He had an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth, and his balding head glistened under the florescent light. He took the cigar from his mouth and shook his head. "Not too well Jim. Everyone's been in quite a state. Liv was a ball of energy around here. She'd bring in donuts in the morning, and fill in for the married officers so that they could have time with their families. She'd just taken the detective's exam." He picked up a folder. "The results came in yesterday… she passed." He put the folder back down and leaned back in his chair. "It really makes you take stock of your life. Liv was as well trained as an officer could be. If something like this can happen to an officer who's as trained as Liv is… was, well when I think of my daughters out there, vulnerable to any low life who decides that they need some kind of thrill, well it makes me ill."

Brass cleared his throat. "I know this is difficult, but we need to ask some questions. Do you know if she was seeing anyone?" Brass opened his notebook, and waited for the answer.

Carl cleared his throat. "I don't really keep up with the personal lives of my officers. As long as they show up, do their work, and keep their noses clean, they can do what they want on their own time. This job can be stressful, I don't have to tell you guys that, and sometimes you have to blow off some steam. This is Vegas, and there are lots of legal ways to do that, but as for Liv, well as far as I know she was a work to home, home to work kinda girl. She never took vacation time unless you made her, and she was always in early and leaving late. I tried to set her up with my nephew once, but she wouldn't hear of it, gave me the most polite 'go to hell' in history. So if she was seeing someone, he must have been the most understanding, low maintenance guy around.

Grissom sat quietly, listening. He knew all about those workaholic woman. But he also knew better than anyone that a woman wouldn't necessarily tell her co-workers if she'd started seeing someone. It was incredible what the people closest to you didn't see. He broke in quietly. "Was there anyone that she worked with that she might confide in? Or maybe just someone she was close to?" Brass looked back at him and could see what he was getting at.

"Is there someone here that she might have had a relationship with that she might not have wanted to advertise, as it were? Maybe she worked so much so she could be close to someone here." Brass asked as gently as he could.

Carl sat forward. "You mean was she seeing someone here? I-I just don't see how that could be." He scoffed, getting up and pacing the small area behind his desk. "I mean surely I would have noticed something like that." He looked at the other two, confusion on his face.

Grissom spoke up. "Sometimes the closer we are to someone, the less we see. Or we see what we expect to see. Maybe if you stepped back, looked at it from a different stand point, you might be able to see something that you didn't see before."

Carl shook his head, but remained quiet, thinking. Finally he looked up. "No, there are people she's closer to than others, but no one that I could see her in a more intimate relationship with."

Brass nodded. "Okay, if you could, just give us a list of those people she's closer to, and we'll question them when we're done here." Brass looked back down at his notebook. "We believe that she had no family, but is that just in the area or none at all?"

Carl shrugged. "As far as I know, she didn't have any, but like I said, I don't know everything. I do know that when she went in for an appendectomy a few months ago no one came to visit her. We all went to see her, and she said she was glad to have the visitors."

Brass and Grissom exchanged a look. "She was in the hospital recently?" Grissom leaned forward intently.

"Yeah, like I said, she needed her appendix out, lets see, this was about six months ago, and she was out for two weeks, and on desk duty for two months. I've never seen someone so happy to get back out in a patrol car." He noticed their intent look. "What does that have to do with her murder?"

Brass looked to Grissom for the answer. "Possibly nothing, but it could be the break we've been looking for."

* * *

"Damn it, this is just not going to work!" Warrick pushed himself away from the computer and tossed the notepad away. 

Catherine looked up from where she was going through the shoe prints on the sole-mate database. "What's the problem?"

"So far out of two hundred cars I've entered, only five don't use synthetic oil. There's just no way for me to narrow down which car might be the one parked in that spot, much less if it was used to carry a dead body." He stood up and began to pace.

"Maybe if you knew what brand of oil it is, not just the type, it might help narrow down the list." Catherine was worried, Warrick looked haggard. "Maybe you should take a break, lay down on the break room couch."

Warrick shook his head. "No, I'll be okay. I just need some more coffee, and an idea of what to look for. You're right; I might have better luck with a brand name. I think I'll pay another visit to Hodges and give him a little job."

Catherine watched as he left the room, a worried frown on her face. She was thinking of going after him, but a beep from the computer kept her in her seat. She sighed. "Finally!" She printed out the page and took out her phone to call Grissom with the results.

* * *

Hodges leaned forward and carefully cut out the cardboard figure. It didn't look like much now, but he could see what it would look like in his mind. He put that piece to the side, and picked up another. He ran the exacto knife along the dotted line, blocking out all other noise around him, which was why he was startled when there was a bang on his table and the knife jerked in his hand, cutting into his finger. He jumped up and turned around, his anger mounting when he saw Warrick standing there, the Las Vegas yellow pages lying on the table in front of him. ."Did your fingers do the walking all the way in here to bother me, or is there a reason you're disrupting my concentration?" He held his cut hand at his side, having pushed his work under a piece of paper. 

"I called your name twice. What are you doing anyway?" Warrick leaned forward to see what Hodges was standing in front of.

"Warrick, I don't have time to stand around talking, is there something you needed?" He leaned on the table, trying to appear calm.

"Yeah, I need an exact brand for that motor oil. There are just too many oils that use a synthetic oil, I need to at least narrow it down to cars that would use a specific brand of oil." Warrick crossed him arms and waited.

Hodges frowned. "That'll take awhile." He said almost to himself. "It'll be at least a day before I can have results on that, maybe two."

It was Warrick's turn to frown. "That long, are you sure?"

Hodges gave an exasperated sigh. "Yeah Warrick, because I have nothing better to do than joke around with you about an oil sample." He turned around saying. "I'll call you when the results come in." Warrick waited a moment, then turned and left. Maybe he did need a nap. Either Hodges was becoming easier to deal with, or he was just at a point that he let it all just fly over his head. Reaching a hand in his pocket he gripped the ever present pill bottle. He didn't have time to nap.

* * *

"Okay Catherine, I hear you. Yes, it does seem to be leading that way. I'll meet you at Desert Palm in, say thirty minutes?" Grissom nodded along as he listened .to her. "Okay, I'll see you then." 

He closed the phone and turned to Brass. "Sorry to leave you with this, but we have a lead that definitely leads to a hospital. Catherine and I will start at Desert Palm and work our way through the others. I'll see you tomorrow if I don't get back to you today."

Brass nodded and turned back to the patrolman that he was questioning. Grissom left the building and headed for his car. He stopped short on seeing the envelope tucked under his windshield wiper. Looking around for anyone hanging about, he took out a pair of gloves and slipped them on before picking it up. Opening it he found one sheet of paper. Unfolding it, he read. 'I can wait.' He looked up, searching. Nothing seemed out of place, but his stomach was churning. He slipped the note into a paper bag, and took out his phone. First order of business was to call Catherine and have her meet him here instead of the hospital. Once that was taken care of, he had a more important call to make.

* * *

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**A/n:** I'm sorry to say that I'm finding it harder to work at home than I thought I would. I'm on vacation from work this week, and I so wanted to update as usual, both my stories, but between my nephew whom I love, but who doesn't know that when Aunt Maisy is on the computer, she needs to be left alone, and the uncomfortable height of the computer table, (using an old kitchen table until I can get a desk, and it's just too high,) I've found that is going to be impossible. So, there will be no Sara's Journey update this week, and I want to assure you, you will get the second part of the phone conversation from SJ in the next chapter of Masquerade.. Thank you to all who have reviewed, I hope you will be understanding of this decision. Aussie, I know you especially will understand. :P:P

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"Hey, what's up? Wouldn't it be quicker meeting at the hospital?" Catherine said as she got out of her car, and walked towards Grissom. His back was turned to her, and when she got nearer she saw that he was on the phone.

Grissom turned, a worried look on his face. "... give me a call when you get this." He finished and hung up. " Hey Catherine." He picked up a large envelope and handed it to her. "Get this to the lab as quickly as possible, I found it on my windshield when I came out of the station, and I'm pretty sure it's from our guy. I bagged it, but I doubt we'll find anything on it, just like the other note, but we have to try."

Concerned, Catherine nodded. "What did this one say?" Catherine took the envelope and carried it to her SUV. Quickly she stowed it away in the back seat, before turning back to him.

"It said, 'I can wait', and I have to admit, I'm not sure what he's talking about. Wait? Wait for what? The perfect next victim?" He paced in front of his car. "There were months between his first and second, and second and third victims, so why the need to warn that he can wait this time. That's like telling us that he hasn't found his next victim yet. Why would he give his hand away like that?" He stopped and stared off into the distance.

Catherine watched him silently for a moment, then softly asked. "Wouldn't that be a good thing? The last thing we want is another victim, why worry about why he doesn't know who she is yet, after all, this gives us more time to find him?"

Grissom took a deep breath and exhaled softly. "Because, I think he knows exactly who his next victim is, he just doesn't know WHERE she is."

* * *

"So, let me get this straight. The last time you saw Angela was on Friday afternoon?" Brass leaned against the desk, and watched the young Officer as he sat at the desk, his right leg bobbing up and down, his fingers tapping at the desk. The kids unease had been apparent from the moment the Captain had brought Brass into the bull pen and told the small group there that Captain Brass would be asking them some questions. He'd purposefully saved the guy for last. 

"Um, yeah. I had a hot date, and I asked Liv if she could fill in for me. She didn't have a problem with it, she never did." The kid brought up his right hand and began to gnaw on his thumb nail.

"And just how often did you get her to sub for you so you could go on a hot date?" Brass asked, his hands clasped in front of him.

"Just, just a couple times a month. A-A guy's gotta have his fun, right? Blow off some steam. Liv understood that. Just because she didn't need her fire stoked, didn't mean the rest of us had to keep 'em banked." He straightened, lifting his chin.

Brass decided to change tacks. "So, Liv wasn't much for going out?"

"Nah, she was a cool one. Never let anything get in the way of her career. I mean, most girls would at least let a guy buy her a drink, but not our Liv, she'd just stare down anyone who offered. I mean, I kinda had her figured for a home team player, you know, preferring a playing field like her own, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe she was a switch hitter." He leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "I mean, what else is a guy to think?"

Brass restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "You mean you figured her for being gay, but something happened recently to make you question that?" At the kid's nod, he sighed. "So what made you do that?"

"She got a call, some guy. He sounded pretty high and mighty too. Called last Thursday, asked for Angela. I say to him, ain't no Angela here, but before he could get another word in, Liv grabbed the phone from me and said it was for her. It took me a minute to realize it was her he had wanted to speak to. She must have liked the dude too, she talked to him for like, five minutes."

Brass shook his head. Kid had obviously never been in a relationship longer than a day to think that a five minute conversation with a woman was a long time. He'd been lucky to get off the phone with his ex in under thirty. "So, what'd she say when she got off the phone?"

"Nothing. She just grabbed her stuff and left. I didn't think much of it though, I'd already asked her to work for me the next night, so I didn't want to get on her bad side."

Brass nodded, looking down at his notes. "Say, why didn't you know her name was Angela, and why do you guys all call her Liv?"

With a shrug, the kid answered. "That's what she was called when I started here. I did ask the Captain about it after that though, and he said that when she first started here, there were three Angela's, and she didn't like going by just Oliver, so everyone just started calling her Liv. Don't matter to me, long as she's there when I need her."

"Brass straightened and turned to go, but turned back. "Well, I guess you'll have to find someone else after all. If you think of anything else, give me a call, your Captain has my number."

* * *

Grissom pulled into the parking lot of Desert Palm hospital and parked in the nearest space to the entrance. He climbed out of the car and surveyed the surrounding area. A woman in a wheelchair was waiting by the curb in the patients loading and unloading area. She was holding a sleeping baby in her arms, and talking to the nurse standing with her. A car pulled up to the curb and a young man hopped out, and strode around the hood to help the young woman in. After she was settled, he opened the back door and, taking the baby from its mother, gently laid it in the car seat. Before he closed the door he leaned in, and though Grissom couldn't see him, he knew he was pressing a kiss onto the sleeping child's forehead. Grissom averted his eyes, staring up into the sky. Every baby brought into the world had the right to that kind of love, but somewhere along the way, something happened. A mother who was too clingy, or too distant, a father who was absent, or abusive, and that sweet little baby could turn into a monster. Then again, you could grow up in the perfect home, and turn out as psycho as the ones from troubled households, or you could grow up in a toxic environment, and against all odds, turn out to be one of the most caring, beautiful people in the world. Sara had once asked if he thought there was a murder gene. His answer had been no, but he did often wonder what made a monster. As far as he could tell, it was any number of issues. Genetics played their role, but so did the environment that a child was brought up in. 

Lost in thought, he didn't realize that Catherine had arrived until she was right beside him. She touched him on the arm, and he jerked around to look at her. "Oh, hey, did you get that note to the lab?"

"Yeah, Mandy said she'd make it a priority." She watched as he glanced around him, worried. He'd never seemed this frazzled by a case before, and she didn't know what accounted for it now. "You ready to go up?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I called on the way over, and they're expecting us." They turned and walked toward the building. Once inside they traveled to the tenth floor where they were met by a smiling receptionist.

"How can I help you?" She asked, her tone polite, but her eyes showed signs of strain.

"We're from the Las Vegas Crime lab, I believe you're expecting us." Grissom glanced around the area, noting the mauve couches and cream walls adorned with framed pictures of muted pastels. Why did hospitals seem to like that color pallet so much? They either went the way of pastel decor, or stuck with browns and oranges. He supposed they were supposed to have a soothing feel, but Grissom had always found them depressing. The last time he'd been in a hospital waiting room had been after Sara had been rescued. It had certainly missed on that soothing effect, and now he found it nauseating. He turned his attention back to the receptionist who was smiling and directing them down the right-hand corridor.

"Mr. Bell is waiting on you, just go down there to the last door on the right, you can't miss it." She smiled again, again it didn't quite reach her eyes. The two CSIs followed her directions as they made their way down the hall.

Grissom opened the door and they found themselves in a large office, which was white in color from its soft pile carpet to its satin gloss walls. The only color in the room came from a cherry desk situated in front of the floor to ceiling windows. Behind the desk sat a man of indeterminate age, who's bald head gleamed from the light of the recessed lighting. When they reached the desk, he stood and they found that he was no taller than five feet. He came around the desk and went to shake their hands, and that's when they discovered that he was wearing white gloves. Catherine looked up at Grissom, and they shared a silent look of comprehension. The man's demeanor and choice of office decoration screamed obsessive compulsive. When he spoke, his voice was high and nasally. "Welcome, would either of you like some coffee, tea perhaps?" He moved back around the desk, and laid his finger on the intercom button.

Both Catherine and Grissom shook their head, Catherine adding. "No thank you, we just have a few questions, and then we'll be out of your way." She glanced down at her notes. "Okay, first of all, is there anyway to keep track of medical implements in the hospital, I mean if a doctor, or nurse, or anyone with access to the supply closet took a random thing, such as a retractor, or scalpel, or box of gauze, would it be noticed?"

Mr. Bell thought a moment and then nodded. "When we buy supplies we keep a list of what is ordered, and how much was ordered, and how much we order is determined by how much of the last shipment we have left. Retractors are sterilized and reused, and that goes for scalpels as well, though the occasional one does get thrown away. As for the gauze, that's a little more indefinable. Yes we keep track of how much we order, but we use it in so many different ways, and not all of them are tracked. For instance, after a surgery all gauze is counted when used, and when collected for disposal, so that is easy to keep a count of, but then we also use it in the ER and those aren't kept track of. Also, we have a standing order of the same amount every month. So really, we can only get a ballpark figure for how many are used each month." He straightened an already straightened pen on his desk, and cleared his throat. "I'd love to be able to present you with an exact number, but that's just not possible. I've had to come to terms with that in my job, and learn to control what I can." He looked around his office and smiled.

Grissom leaned forward. "Would it be possible for someone other than a staff member to take any of those supplies?"

"The scalpels and the retractors, no. The gauze is a different matter. If a patient was in the ER they could take some from the supply cabinets there. The same applies for any supplies kept there, syringes, needles, collection vials, anything that might be needed in an emergency situation, and as you know, people come into the ER with many conditions that aren't an emergency, such as colds, headaches, that sort of thing, and they are generally left unattended for a longer time than other patients, as the more critical ones are seen to first."

"What about drugs? Specifically Methohexital, would anyone other than a doctor or nurse be able to take it from the hospital without it being noticed?" Grissom questioned.

"Methohexital is a very powerful drug used as an anesthesia, and would therefore be kept locked in the drug cabinet. Only doctors and nurses would have access to that." Mr. Bell answered, affronted. "We would certainly notice if that were missing."

"And who orders these drugs?" Catherine inquired.

"All supplies for this hospital go through this office. I personally verify every order and shipment. The pertinent drugs are delivered to the proper personnel by trusted members of my staff. There is no way that something from a shipment could be taken from delivery to stocking in the drug locker." He answered, his voice indignant.

Grissom came to the conclusion that they would not be getting anywhere with this man today. He stood up and smiled. "Well, that's all we needed to know. Thank you for your time, and if you think of anything that you think would be of help, we would greatly appreciate you letting us know."

Grissom turned to leave, with a nod, Catherine followed. As soon as the door was closed behind them, she turned to him. "Gil, you know there could be any number of ways that that drug could have been taken. We didn't get names of the people that handle the drugs, or, or a list of ALL the people with a key to the drug cabinet..."

Grissom placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Catherine, believe me, that man wouldn't have given us those lists right now, because he feels that we're questioning the only thing in his job, other than his office, that he has control over. Essentially questioning his judgement of his employees, and his own dedication to the job. We can get a warrant for the names, and once he stops and thinks about the situation, he'll get back to us. He just needs time to process the situation."

Catherine stood, mouth agape for a few moments and then rolled her eyes and shrugged. "If you say so. I guess it takes one to know one."

Grissom smiled and they continued down the hall. As they neared the elevator, Grissom glanced around, and stopped dead. "Lurie." He hissed.

Catherine looked around too, noting the man standing at the receptionist desk. She felt the tension in Gil and was disturbed by it. At that moment Dr. Lurie turned their way. Seeing Grissom, he smiled.

"Dr. Grissom, it's good to see you. What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

**TBC...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Nope, not mine.

**A/n:** As promised, the second part of the phone conversation from Sara's Journey. Thanks for being so patient. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

"Now, why is it you look shocked to see me?" He smiled and turned to Catherine. "And uh, Ms. Willows, nice to see you again as well."

Grissom swallowed the distaste that had risen like bile in the back of his throat. "Dr. Lurie, I thought you were practicing in LA."

"I did, for a while, but I found that the LA scene wasn't my style. Moved back to Vegas two years ago and I couldn't be happier." He smiled at them. "So, back to my question, what brings you guys here?"

Grissom squinted, thinking. It had always irked him that he hadn't been able to prove that Lurie had killed Debbie Marlin. He didn't like the coincidence that these murders had started not long after he arrived back in town. "Just doing our job, investigating a murder."

Lurie nodded. "Yeah, I heard about that on the news. This world is full of monsters; you never know what someone else is thinking." He stuck out his hand to shake Grissom's.

Grissom shook it reluctantly, letting go as soon as possible. "Yes, it is, but luckily monsters make mistakes, and we catch them, and put them behind bars."

Lurie smiled. "Ah, but you don't catch them all. Or at least not before you almost lose the woman you love to them."

Grissom stilled, his eyes glinted. "That is true, some get by us… for a while, but as I said, sooner or later they make a mistake.

"Dr. Lurie? That delivery you were waiting for is here." They turned to find the receptionist standing there. "If I could just get your signature, you can be on your way." She smiled, and Grissom noticed that this time the smile reached her eyes.

He smiled at her and took the clipboard she was offering. "Thank you Gina." He winked at her. "You know, you make coming to this boring old office the highlight of my day." He signed his name and took the delivery box from her.

Grissom watched him turn on the charm, and his stomach turned at the thought of what the man was capable of. Lurie turned back to them, and gave them both a smile. "Well it's been nice seeing you guys again, but I have to get back to work. I wish you luck with your case, but I'm sure you'll understand if I hope not to see you again." He nodded to them and left.

Catherine raised an eyebrow and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Well, that was interesting."

"Hmm, yeah. It does seem a bit coincidental." He remained silent for a moment. "Well, we'd better get back to the lab." He turned and headed for the elevator.

Catherine stared after him for a moment, then shook her head and followed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay Hodges, tell me you have something for me." Warrick walked into the Trace lab and leaned on the counter.

Hodges looked up from the computer and sighed. "Of course I have something, don't I always come through for you guys?" He stood up and walked over to the counter to pick up a file. "This is a complete analysis on the oil sample. As you know, it's synthetic, but I discovered on further breakdown that it was two oils combined. The older sample is Amsoil oil, high grade and a favorite used buy car buffs. The second, newer sample was Mobil1. As far as I can tell they're very similar, chemically, but I've found that most real car buffs are very loyal to the brands they use. So, if they're an Amsoil user, then they don't just up and switch to another brand unless it's unavoidable."

Warrick took the file. "Well, thanks but I'm not sure how that helps. There's no shortage of car buffs in Vegas, and most of them belong to one club or another. Have you analyzed that soil sample yet?"

Hodges shook his head. "Been backed up, that was next on my list."

Warrick tapped the file in his palm and turned to leave. "Okay, thanks. I'll check back in with you about that sample."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grissom sat at his desk, the door closed, the lights turned down. It had been a nasty surprise to run into Lurie this morning and just knowing he was in the same town as that man was galling. He rubbed his head, fighting off a headache. He'd already taken a couple of aspirin, and all he could hope was that it didn't turn into a migraine. He sighed when the phone rang, answering it with a terse, "Grissom."

There was a moment of silence, then he heard Sara's voice and the knot in his stomach, that he'd been barely aware of, started to loosen. "Hey, I'm just returning your call. You sound stressed."

Grissom couldn't believe how relieved he was to hear from her. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "God am I glad to hear your voice." He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his temple, though his headache was already receding.

"You sound stressed, difficult case?" Grissom didn't really want to talk about it, his time with Sara was so little that he hated to ruin it with talk of work, especially now, since he knew that hearing about a serial killer wouldn't help her burnout, but he figured he owed her an explanation. He settled for a quick rundown. "Yes, actually. It's a serial and the guy seems to want to make it personal. But I don't want you to worry; it's nothing I haven't seen before. What I want to know is how YOU are doing."

She told him about her visit to her father's grave, and he could hear a lightness in her voice that had been missing before she'd left. "And, where do you go next?" Grissom asked gruffly. He listened as she talked about confronting her mother over the lie she had perpetrated about her father. He could hear the tension returning to her voice as she talked, and was glad to change the subject when she suggested it. Her voice turned soft as she asked him what he was doing. He shifted in his chair and said, "I'm sitting in my office, buried under paperwork, waiting for Catherine and Warrick to bring me some news."

He smiled when she mentioned the upcoming holiday. He hadn't had time to give it any thought, but the memory of last year was enough to have him shifting in his chair again. He closed his eyes, and smiled when she mentioned the pumpkin pie they'd had for dessert. Grissom cleared his throat. "Hmm, yeah I remember. Pumpkin pie never tasted so good."

He could hear the smile in her voice when she huskily returned. "Well, dinner was a wreck; I had to make dessert spectacular."

"And indeed you did." Grissom murmured

"Well I've always thought that using utensils was overrated, and eating it off your chest added a nice contrast of saltiness. I don't think I can go back to eating it off of a plate." She purred.

"And the whipped cream was a nice touch." He added, his mind wandering back. He shifted again, and was startled as his door flew open and Catherine barreled in, already talking.

"Gil those results are back, and as you suspected there were no prints on the note." On her entrance he'd sat up with a jerk but wasn't quite so quick to hide the dazed look on his face. She stopped mid-stride and stuttered. "Uh, umm, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Grissom had recovered quickly and he cleared his throat. "No, you're not interrupting. Just give me a minute."

He spoke into the phone, and Catherine stared around the room, trying to ignore the soft tone of his voice as returned to his conversation. "I'm sorry, we'll have to continue this conversation later." He was silent for a moment and Catherine could hear the whisper of a female voice over the phone. Even from this distance she could hear the heat in the voice, and she felt her face redden when Grissom returned with a chuckle and a promise to buy some and put it to good use. From the tone of his voice Catherine had no doubt that whatever he would be buying, she didn't want to know the use for it. A moment later he hung up and turned back to her, clearing his throat. "So, there were no prints on the note?"

Catherine turned from her position staring at Miss Piggy and shook her head. "No, but I sent them down to QD. Poor Archie is backed up ever since they combined AV and QD, but he promised to analyze them with ESDA as soon as he gets the chance."

"Good, maybe we can find out what may have been written on the page before the pages the notes were written on. Did you get an ID on the shoe prints in the Solemate database?" Grissom asked, still trying to get control over himself.

"Yeah, they were a size 10 soft soled shoe. Several brands fit the bill, but they're all worn by people in the medical field. There wasn't enough detail to get a specific brand though." She sat down in front of his desk, and decided to address the elephant in the room.

"So, that was Sara on the phone. How is she?" Catherine crossed her legs, and waited.

"She's doing better. I think this time away is exactly what she needed." He sighed and propped his forearms on his desk, changing the subject. "Everything is leading me to believe that the killer is in the medical profession, and that coupled with the personal aspect of the case, the possibility that the killer is somehow connected to me… I think we know who our number one suspect is."

Catherine nodded. "I thought the same thing. I just don't believe he would think he could get away with it."

Grissom shook his head. "As much as I'd love to pin this whole thing on Lurie, I'm just not sure it's him. He's our best bet though. I'll get Brass to bring him in, we should probably question all the employees at all the hospitals anyway, why not start with the one you know has killed before.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** Nope, don't own them.

**A/n:** Okay, the cases that Greg mentions in this chapter are real, and the Crime Library website is a really interesting place to visit, but I wouldn't read case after case if I were you. It just leaves you with an icky feeling. Once again big thanks in advance to Aussie for catching my typos. I'm just blind when it comes to those sometimes.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Greg pushed back from the computer, his stomach churning. He'd just spent five solid hours reading of the atrocities that man could visit upon their fellow man. He just couldn't understand how a person could treat someone else, epecially someone they professed to love, with such malice. He rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the images running through his mind. A man in New York who cut out his girlfriend's heart because she turned down his Valentine's Day proposal, hundreds of women found disemboweled along the Mexico, Texas borderlands, not to mention the hundreds of cases of sexual sadism and torture listed in the Crime Library.

Greg had never thought he'd be so grateful for the trick rolls and dumpster diving sessions he was assigned. A noise at the door made him look up.

"Hey man, how's the research coming?" Nick asked from his position in the doorway.

"Nauseatingly slow." Greg muttered as he stood, and stretched. "Reading about all the disgusting things that humans have done to one another is making my skin crawl. Do you know there are more episodes of cannibalism than is commonly known? I would really recommend that no one spend too much time in the Truly Weird and Shocking section of the Crime Library. You read too many of those stories and you can start to kind of understand why they do what they do, and I just don't want to be that understanding of why sicko killers do what they do." Greg picked up a folder containing the few cases he'd found that might match what their killer was doing, though none of them was an exact match.

"Well Greg, there is a reason that we don't look for the why. We're not profilers, we're forensic investigators. Of course Grissom told you all this and what I'm not understanding is why you felt you needed to question that." Nick pulled a chair over, turned it around and straddled it.

"Look, just because Grissom is the supervisor, doesn't mean he knows everything." Greg stood, staring at the wall over Nick's shoulder.

"True, but this isn't one of those things. Look, you've known Grissom for just about as long as I have. Have you ever known him to be unfair, or not to listen to what other's had to offer on a case?" Nick asked, earnestly.

"Well, there was that time he made Mia redo a DNA test on that blood sample, when it was fine the first time around. Look, I'm just saying that the Great Gil Grissom isn't right about everything." Greg turned away, straightening some papers on the counter.

"Wow, you really have a bug up your butt about this, don't you. Yeah, Grissom isn't perfect, but I've never known him to jeopardize a case. I just think that you overreacted to all this. " Nick lifted his arms in the air and raised his eyebrows.

"Hey, you don't know everything you know. I happen to know that Sara… well it's his fault that Sara is gone." Greg said vehemently, but didn't look up.

"Now wait a minute. Sara's just taking a little time off…"

"So Grissom said!" Greg cut in. "I happen to know that she's not just taking some time, she's left town, and she may not be coming back, and it's all Grissom's fault."

"And how do you know this?" Nick stood, and started to pace. "Sara wouldn't quit just because of problems with Grissom, I mean she isn't even working on his shift. There'd be no reason for her to…" Nick trailed off.

"Yeah, well that's not what I heard." Greg muttered. Silence followed, each lost in thought. The silence was disrupted when two people walked into the room, talking.

"So Brass is bringing him in for questioning, but I don't think we'll have anything to hold him on." Grissom said to Catherine as they entered the research lab. He noticed Nick standing against the wall and nodded. "Hey Nick, anything on that list of cars yet?"

Nick cleared his throat and nodded. "We uh, we got a list of the club members at the lounge that night, and we're in the process of getting a list of their cars to eliminate them from the cars on the tape. It's going to take a while, but short of the car with the oil leak just showing up like magic in our parking lot, it's the best shot we have."

"And any progress with the oil?" Grissom picked up a newspaper sitting on the counter.

"Ah, well the oil is probably going to be a dead end, unless we find the car it matches. It's synthetic oil, and though not all cars use synthetic, most can, so it doesn't really point to a specific car. It will come in handy if we ever find the car, it has a unique mixture of oils that should make matching it to the car a breeze." Nick headed for the door. "I've got to get back to that list of club members. I guess I'll see you later." He left with a wave.

Grissom turned to Greg. "Have you found anything on the meaning of the mutilation?"

Greg held of the file in his hand. "I've got a few cases to look into, but nothing that matches exactly right now.

Grissom nodded. "Okay, just make sure you're available when needed, and when you're ready, let us know what you've found out." Greg nodded and left the room also.

Catherine chuckled. "You sure know how to clear a room."

Grissom shrugged and looked down at the paper he was holding. The headline, 'Back Nine Ripper strikes again, Police remain silent' blared up at him. "What do they mean police remain silent. They have the story because they were given the details by the police."

"You know better than to read stuff like that. They're just mad because they don't have any real details, such as the identity of the victim, or any pertinent details of the murder. And they need an eye catching headline." Catherine glanced at her watch. "Brass should be here any minute. You ready for this?"

Grissom tossed the paper down. "You bet."

* * *

Grissom had decided it would be best if he wasn't the one to question Lurie, so Catherine took that job as Grissom looked on from the observation room. 

Catherine walked in and smiled coolly, nodding to Brass who was sitting in the corner. "Thank you for coming in Dr. Lurie, I know it disturbs your schedule, but we'll be bringing in all hospital employees from all hospitals and doctor's offices in the area, and we thought you might be a good place to start."

"Yes, I can only imagine why you thought I might be a good place to start. You know I was never convicted, or even indicted for anything. This could be considered harassment." He glared at her.

Catherine shook her head. "Sir, this is not harassment. We just thought since you'd been through this before you might be amenable to answering our questions. I mean if you have nothing to hide, then there's nothing for you to worry about."

Lurie sneered. "Of course there's something to worry about. My name is going to be dragged through the mud once again. I'm a doctor; my patients have to trust me. I know I haven't done anything, but if it gets out that you're questioning me, and people learn about that incident a few years ago, well my reputation could be ruined.

"Sir, as I said, we'll be questioning all doctors and for that matter, all hospital personal. Believe me; I'm not looking forward to it. There are two public hospitals, including Desert Palms, and three private ones, not to mention all the private practice doctor's offices in the city, so there is no reason for your questioning to be looked on as anything other than it is, a formality."

Lurie was silent for a few moments, then tensely nodded. "Fine, ask me your questions."

Catherine smiled, and then turned to Brass. "I'm ready when you are."

Brass opened his notebook. "Where were you on November tenth and eleventh?"

"Working, I was doing a complicated surgery for a good part of both days." He relaxed after that first question.

"Can you give me a specific time?" Catherine made a note on her notebook as Brass continued with the questioning.

Sighing, Lurie thought back. "The actual surgery started at seven pm, but I was at the hospital all day preparing for it. It ended after a long twelve hours, so around seven the next morning, just in time for rounds. After that I showered and took a nap in the on call room, I was awoken around one for a consultation and I spent the rest of the day attending to my patients and catching up on paperwork. I finally got home around midnight and I slept until noon, when I woke up I showered, grabbed something to eat and headed back into work to check on my surgical patient. She was doing fine." He crossed his legs and clasped his hands around his knee. "So you see, I barely have time to feed myself, much less go out and murder women and leave them laid out on golf courses."

Catherine and Brass shared a look. "And have you been seeing anyone recently?" Catherine asked.

"Huh, you must be kidding. I've been out exactly three times in the last year and a half, and two of those times were with a group of people from work." Lurie shrugged.

"And the third?" Brass inquired.

"Oh well, the third was an actual date. I thought it went well, but it was a month ago, and though we've talked on the phone a couple of times, we haven't been able to find time for another date. Well, we were supposed to meet the other night, the night before the surgery, but she called and canceled, but I had my head in this surgery, so I wouldn't have been a good date anyway." He uncrossed his legs and leaned his elbows on the table.

"Can you give us a name?" Brass asked as he scribbled in his notebook.

"Yeah, actually she's one of you guys. Her name is Angela Oliver and she works for the North Vegas PD." He smiled.

Brass and Catherine froze, and Grissom who'd been pacing as he listened, stopped suddenly. Catherine cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, did you say Angela Oliver?"

"Yeah, give her a call, she'll tell you the same thing." He watched as they stared at him. "What? You know I'm not an ogre, some women DO find me attractive."

Still they remained silent. "Look, I'll give you her number, but I don't see what good it will do in this interview, like I said I didn't actually see her, but you're welcome to give her a call."

Catherine cleared her throat. "That won't be necessary Dr. Lurie. We know where Ms. Oliver is."

He looked at them confused. "Look, what does she have to do with anything?"

They looked up as Grissom walked in, his face set. "It has everything to do with her doctor, because Angela Oliver is dead, the latest victim of a sadistic serial killer.

* * *

**TBC…**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI, or any of its characters.

**A/n:** There will be no update to Masquerade next week, due to the fact that I have to work on my entry for the Smutathon at Geekfiction and I have three videos to do, and regular life stuff. Updates will continue as normal the next week. I've also decided that there will be no update to Sara's Journey this week for the same reasons, but I should be ready for next weeks update for that fic. Thanks in advance for your understanding, and thank you Aussie for all your help.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Lurie stared in shock as Grissom made his way over to the table and sat next to Catherine. Grissom watched as the doctor jumped up and began to pace. Finally he stopped and looked at Brass, then Catherine, and finally his eyes locked on Grissom's. "She's dead, killed?"

"Shocked, Doc? Now, I find that surprising. It's certainly not the first time a woman you were seeing ended up dead." Brass asked from the corner.

"I-What?!" Lurie spread his hands facedown on the table. "Look, that thing a few years ago, there was never any proof that I had anything to do with it, and this thing now? Well I didn't do it. I liked Angela yeah, and we went out, once, and yes I would have liked it to be more, but that's as far as it went." He stopped and dropped his head. The room was filled with silence until he lifted his head up and sighed. "I had no reason to kill her. That's the bottom line."

Catherine and Grissom shared a look as Brass spoke up. "Yeah, no reason, but the thing is, we only have what you tell us to go by. How do we know that the lady didn't tell you she wasn't interested, and you took exception to that?"

Lurie sighed and rubbed his face. "You're right, for now you only have my word." He reached around and took out his wallet. "But once you check out this restaurant you might have more." He handed Catherine a receipt. "Check it out. It's my favorite restaurant the staff knows me well. I took her there on our one date. They can tell you exactly how the date went." He leaned back in his chair and watched them.

Brass shook his head. "I'm not sure how much weight the staff of a restaurant is going to hold. You see, you've been back in town for a year and a half, and coincidently the first murder was committed a little under a year and a half ago. And there have been months between murders, kinda like the killer had other obligations. A busy doctor with rejection issues fits the bill."

"I don't know what to tell you. Ask around, find out what you can. There is no proof that I did anything, and you won't find any. Because I didn't do anything." He clasped his hands in his lap.

Grissom leaned forward. "Do you own your own home, doctor?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "What of it."

"And when did you buy your house?" Grissom watched him intently.

Lurie blinked. "About nine months ago, I got tired of living out of a hotel, and I thought it was better to buy than rent. Why? What does that have to do with anything?"

Ignoring the question, Grissom asked. "What was your realtor's name?"

Lurie shook his head, but answered. "Phyllis, Phyllis Johnson. Look, what does my house have to do with anything?"

Once again, Grissom ignored the question. "And what bank do you use?"

"So you're just throwing out random questions now, is that it?" Lurie stood up and started to pace. "Is that your plan, to get me so worked up and confused that I don't know which end is up?"

Brass stepped up. "Just answer the question Dr. Lurie."

Lurie spun around, his hands on his hips. "Fine, my bank is Bank of America."

Grissom sat forward. "And is that the only bank you have dealings with?"

"Well no, my mortgage is through First Union, but that's the only other bank I have dealings with on a regular basis." He lifted his hands and shrugged.

"Which branch?" Grissom pressed

"The one in Henderson. Look, could you please tell me what all this is about?" He sat back down and propped his elbows on the table.

"Did you meet someone named Nancy Curtis while you were there? Grissom stood up, leaning on the table.

Lurie shrugged. "Yeah, I think there was a brief meeting with her, or she sat in on a meeting I had with my loan officer, Jack Malloy. We only met the once though." He turned and covered a yawn.

"Are we boring you Doc?" Brass sneered.

"No, but I have had a busy day, a day which started," he glanced at his watch, "yesterday at nine AM. So forgive me, but I have no control over my body's reaction to the lack of sleep." He crossed his arms, watching them.

"Well, maybe we can perk you up." Grissom smiled. He looked to Catherine who handed him two files. He opened one and laid it in front of Lurie. "Nancy Curtis, VP of First Union Bank in Henderson, found on the sixth of October, two thousand and six. She had been killed and mutilated." He placed the other file in front of him. "Phyllis Johnson, realtor, found March fifteenth, two thousand and seven. She had also been killed and mutilated. And of course you know Angela Oliver. All killed by the same person. All known by you. Do you see why we might be taking a bit of an interest in your whereabouts the last few months?" Grissom sat back.

Lurie stared at the two folders in front of him in silence. Finally he sighed. "But you have no proof, no evidence. Do you?"

* * *

Nick glanced at his watch and sighed. The list of club members was over two hundred names long, and that only covered the people who had been in the lounge that night. They were still waiting on a full list of all the members, and he wasn't looking forward to the work ahead of him when that came in. So far he'd matched up twenty cars with twenty members, and when he was done he'd have to question each of the matches. He went back to the list and got through another ten members before he glanced at his watch again. Four AM, and he had hours of work ahead of him. He decided it was time for a break, something to eat should help his concentration. He picked up he phone and hit the speed dial button for W. Brown. 

"Hey, you ready for a break? I was thinking about breakfast at Franks." He got up and headed for the locker room, phone pressed to his ear. "Okay, I'll meet you there. I'll grab Greg on the way, I'm sure he needs a break too." Nick closed his phone and made a detour to the research lab. "Hey Greg, time for a break. C'mon, Warrick and I are going to Frank's."

Greg looked up from the computer, he eyes looked bloodshot. "Yeah, I think I'd better take a break. Get my head out of all this gore for a while." He stood, and stretched. He joined Nick and they walked down the hall to the locker room. Nick opened his locker, taking out his wallet. Greg did the same, but Nick chucked him on the shoulder. "Put that away, it's my treat."

Greg shrugged and put his wallet back. "Hey, I never turn down a free meal." He grinned.

Nick smiled and took out his gun. Greg raised an eyebrow. "Expecting trouble at the diner?"

Nick looked at the gun and grimaced. "Well Greg, in the last three years, two of us have been kidnapped, and one was shot, so I pretty much like to have my gun with me wherever I go."

Greg nodded. "I can see your point."

The door opened and a whirlwind rushed by. Greg and Nick watched as Ronnie hurried to her locker. "Hey there T.D., what's the rush, and what are you doing here at this time anyway?" Nick laughed as he watched her try twice to unlock her locker, until she realized it was already unlocked.

Ronnie opened it, and began shifting things around quickly. "What? T.D.?"

Nick smiled. "Yeah, you came in here like the Tasmanian Devil. T.D.

Ronnie stopped and gave that some thought. "Oh, cute." She went back to rooting around in her locker. "I can't find my driver's license. If it's not here, I don't know where to look next." She pulled out a vest and then pulled out another. "Wait, where did this other vest come from?" She turned it over and found tape where the name tag should be. "Good luck? What does that mean?"

Nick looked at Greg, concerned. Greg turned and unlocked the locker in front of him, and opened it. "Hey, how do you know the combination to that? Nick asked.

Greg rolled his eyes. "Friends share things." He was silent for a moment, then qualified. "And this used to be my locker, but Sara wanted to switch for some reason." Greg searched the locker, not finding a vest. He looked up at Nick, shaking his head. "This isn't good."

* * *

Warrick speared some egg with his fork and added some hash brown to the bite before stuffing it in his mouth. He chewed while he listened to Nick question Greg. "So, what exactly did you hear Gris say that's made you blame him for Sara taking some time off?" 

Warrick swallowed and cut in before Greg could start talking. "Wait, what do you mean? What does Grissom have to do with Sara taking some time off?"

Greg took a quick sip of his coffee, then cleared his. "Okay, I overheard Grissom telling Catherine that Sara was gone, and that it was his fault. You know, I knew she was having problems. She was just different whenever I talked to her, more subdued. A couple of weeks ago I found her in the locker room, sitting alone, and she said that the brunettes in slasher flicks always die, and I could see she was thinking of her time under the car. I told her that she survived, but she said that she felt like nothing she did helped, that the murder rate had gone up every year that she'd been here, and nothing we did could stop it. I tried to be there for her, I figured that she and Grissom talked about these things, and that he'd be there for her if she needed him. But, according to him, he didn't see it, and now she's gone, possibly for good."

Warrick thought for a moment, and then cleared his throat. "I didn't see it. I bumped into her the other day in the locker room, and told her I was having trouble sleeping." He rubbed his face. "She said she was too, and I said… I said that coming off grave could do that to you. Man, I'm so dense."

"Hey, you have nothing to feel bad about. But Grissom, Grissom was with her every day. How he couldn't see how lost she was…" He trailed off, and picked up his coffee. "It's just not right.

Nick shook his head. "Hey man, he might not have seen anymore of her than we did. Don't forget she changed shifts. That means that they saw each other for only a few hours, and the rest of the time they would have been working or sleeping. And if Sara had wanted him to know, well he would have known. I think we should be there for him, if she has left. Hopefully she'll come back, but Grissom isn't the type to take it lightly that she left. I'm sure they've been in touch, but maybe we should include him more, you know, when we come out like this, ask him to come along. After all, he doesn't have anyone to go home to anymore."

Warrick nodded, but Greg wasn't persuaded. "She was… IS my best friend and until I hear from her, I'm going to believe the words the man himself spoke."

* * *

Catherine watched Grissom as he sat at his desk, reading through the files for the third time. "You've been quiet since we had to let Lurie go, do you think it was the wrong thing to do?" 

Grissom shook his head. "No, we couldn't hold him. He's right, there's no proof that he did anything, and I'm not totally convinced that he is guilty. It just seems too easy."

"Exactly what I was thinking, but if someone is trying to set him up, what made them choose him?" Catherine flipped through her notes. "They would not only have to know that he'd at least met all three women, but that we would have cause to believe that he was guilty." She stood, stretching. "I'm going to see if Brass has that list of medical personnel yet. If someone is trying to set him up, it's likely that they're also in the medical profession. I think we should start with the other suspects from the Debbie Marlin case. It's a start anyway."

Grissom watched as she left, turning back to the file. His phone rang, and without glancing at the ID, he answered with a weary. "Grissom."

"Hey, what's wrong, and don't say nothing. I haven't heard you sound like this since before your sabbatical." Grissom smiled at the sound of her voice and tossed the file down

He cleared his throat, buying time to think. He didn't want to worry her, so he gave her the bare bones of the case and situation. "…it's getting kind of hairy, but hearing your voice helps all that fade away. So, what have you been doing?" Grissom smiled as she told him about her trip to the pier, and how it reminded her of the trip they'd taken there. "Oh yeah, that WAS a good trip. Didn't we spend most of it in the hotel room?" Just the thought brought a response to his body, and he shifted to a more comfortable position. By the time the conversation got around to freckles that he hadn't known he had he'd given up on finding a truly comfortable position. Her voice wrapped around him, soft as satin, and he closed his eyes, his mind back in San Francisco on that long ago trip. "Ah yeah well, I didn't know you were kissing freckles. You should let a man know these things."

She shifted the topic, mentioning the waitress they'd run into. "Do you remember that waitress we met at that restaurant? The one that knew me from school?"

Grissom grinned, of course he remembered. If it hadn't been for her, they might have spent more time at that restaurant. "Yeah, the one you didn't like."

Sara talked about a friend that she wanted to get in touch with, and she was sounding so happy that there was no way Grissom could say no when she asked him to look up the friend who she'd found out had moved to Las Vegas. "Honey I'm glad to do whatever I can do to help. Just give me her name, and I'll look her up." Grissom shifted the files on his desk, picking up a notepad and pen. "Okay, give me her name."

Grissom smiled as he wrote down the name she gave him, but his smile disappeared when he realized that he knew that name. He heard Sara asking him a question, but he was focused on those two words. 'Angela Oliver'. Finally he managed to ask. "Angela Oliver? Are you sure that's her name?"

"Of course, unless she's married now. But that was her name then." He could hear the puzzlement in Sara's voice.

"What about her parents? Did you ask them?" He asked, still trying to find a way that this wasn't happening.

"Her father died a few years ago, and I don't know where her mother is. For all I know she could be dead too. I actually learned she was in Las Vegas through her dad's obit." Sara answered, concern in her voice. "Gil, is something wrong?"

Grissom shook his head, knowing that Sara wouldn't be getting in touch with her friend, but he couldn't tell her that now. He had to confirm his suspicions first, and then he'd decide what to do about Sara. He decided to stick with the truth, if not all the truth. "No, I may have just gotten some important information on my case. Can I call you back later?"

"Sure, work comes first. I'll talk to you later."

He heard the confusion in her voice but knew that she wouldn't press him. She knew him so well. Wishing he could comfort her, he did the best he could. "Definitely, love you."

"Love you too, bye." She whispered.

He said goodbye and hung up, still starring at the name. Slowly he leaned forward and searched for the correct file. He opened it up to the background info on Angela Oliver, praying that she would be from anywhere but San Francisco. Scanning the page he saw her date of birth, then her current address, and then there it was, from her employment records. She'd transferred to Las Vegas from the San Francisco PD ten years ago. His heart pounded. He didn't like the implications of this at all. "Fuck!" He threw down the file and hurried out the door.

* * *

**TBC…**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI or any of its characters. The ones I make up are mine.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Catherine added a fourth name to the final list she was working on and then straightened, lifting her arms over her head in a stretch. She looked back down at the other lists she had made and the names swam before her eyes.

Brass had come through with the names they needed, and Catherine was trying to put the ten thousand plus names in some kind of order. It was unrealistic to think they could bring them all in for questioning so she was making new lists of the people who had a greater chance of having access to the items that had been used during the murders. She started with the people who would have the most access to the drug Methohexital. The other lists were comprised of people who had access to the medical implements that were left near the bodies, and those who would have had contact with any of the victims. Now she was making a master list of names that appeared on at least two of the other lists.

A few minutes later Catherine gathered everything together and glanced at the clock on the wall. She jumped up and hurried from the room. She had to take Lindsey to school and she was running late. As she hurried down the hall she glanced around, looking for anyone working on the case. The AV lab was empty, as was the Trace lab.

Frowning she hurried on to Grissom's office. She stopped short on finding it empty. Turning slowly she headed toward the locker room. Once again she found no one. She stopped a moment and thought. Where could they be? A sudden thought occurred to her and she started for the DNA lab, but stopped in her tracks when Grissom came barreling down the hallway towards her.

He didn't notice her at first, but looked up just in time to avoid a collision. He came to a sudden stop and her breath caught in her chest at the look in his eyes. She had seen that look only once, when Sara had been kidnapped.

"What's wrong Gil? Is it Sara? Has she been hurt?" she asked, confused.

Grissom started at her, lost for words. He had just come from seeing Brass, and between them they had confirmed that Sara's childhood friend was indeed the same as the latest victim lying down in the morgue. "Sara called…she, um, she wanted me to look up a childhood friend for her. She said that she'd found out that she was living here now, and that she wanted to talk to her…," he broke off and sighed.

Concerned, Catherine led him over to a bench. They sat and she waited for him to continue. Finally he spoke again. "So, I said okay. There's nothing I wouldn't do for her, and this seemed like such a small thing."

Catherine nodded. "So, I'm guessing that something about it turned out to be not so simple?" she asked, trying to find sense in what was happening.

"You, uh, you could say that. Her friend's name, Angela… Angela Oliver seemed familiar, and then I put it together. I talked to Brass, and we confirmed it. Sara's friend Angela is our latest victim."

Catherine sat, shocked. "Oh my God! Does Sara know?"

Grissom shook his head. "Not yet, and I don't know how to tell her. She's had such a hard time lately, and I just don't want to add to that."

"But you have to tell her. You know Sara; she's not going to be put off for long. The longer you wait the harder it's going to be to tell her." Catherine stood up and handed him the lists she'd made. "Here are the names of the hospital employees. The top list is the master list, ten names that appear on two or more of the other lists. I think we should start there." She glanced at her watch. "I have to go, I have to take Lindsey to school, just remember what I said. Don't put it off, Sara deserves better."

Grissom watched as she walked away, knowing she was right. But he couldn't do it right now. She'd know he was busy so he could probably get away with waiting a least a couple of days. He stood and headed for his office. If he had to give her the bad news that her friend was dead, had been murdered, he hoped he could also tell her that they had the killer in custody.

* * *

Hodges yawned and opened the door to the Trace lab. Between keeping up with the case load of not only the Graveyard shift, but also the overflow from Day's and Swing, AND working on his board game not only in his free time, but whenever he could find time at work, his sleep schedule had been severely affected. 

He carefully set down the box he was carrying and gave a disgusted sigh when he saw the state that the dayshift Trace analyst had left the office in. He got to work setting things to rights, muttering about how some people could be so inconsiderate. He stopped short on finding a half eaten burger hidden under a pile of files. "That does it! It's one thing to pursue your dream of living like a pig in a sty, but it's another thing to flout lab policy."

"Ah, Hodges, you're not giving up on your dreams are you?" asked a voice from the door.

Hodges flushed, his mind went blank. "Uh… can I do something for you Wendy?" he finally managed.

She held up a tube. "I found this soil sample waiting in my inbox, and last I knew I didn't deal in soil." She stepped forward, watching as he continued to clean. "Mind explaining what it was doing there?"

Hodges stopped and looked at her. She was wearing her usual jeans, but she hadn't put on her lab coat yet, and the yellow top she was wearing clung to her curves in a way that nearly robbed him of speech. "I-I left a note. When I analyzed it I found some biological material. Are you sure there wasn't a note attached? I'm pretty sure I left one."

Wendy shook her head. "Nope, there was just this tube. So, what kind of biological material did you find?"

"Uh, little swimmers; though they weren't swimming when I found them," he answered.

"Sperm, you found sperm in this soil sample?" Wendy asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, I stopped by to give it to you last night, but you'd left, so I put it, with a note, in your inbox. I don't know why the note wasn't there this morning." He watched as she came forward, excitement on her face.

"Do you know what this means? It means that we could have the case breaker. The killer's DNA could be in this tube!" She swung her hand out nearly knocking over a stack of folders. Hodges leapt forward and grabbed them before they fell. "Oops, sorry about that," she said breathlessly. "I'm gonna go get started on this right away." She turned and skipped towards the door, but turned back before she got there. "Oh, your fly is down," She said with a twinkle in her eye, and left.

Looking down he swore, and quickly pulled it up. Shaking his head he went to the box he'd brought in and took out a notebook. He opened it and by the name, Mindy Bimms, he wrote, clumsy yet buxom. Smiling he flipped the book shut and got back to work straightening the lab.

A few minutes later he had just started analyzing a sample for a case on swing when he was interrupted yet again, this time by Warrick. Sighing he picked up the file next to him and handed it to him.

"These are the results on the soil sample?" Warrick asked.

"No, it's my grocery list, make sure you don't forget the bananas," he said, rolling his eyes. "Of course it's the results on the soil sample."

Warrick just stared at him and opened the file. On the top page was a folded sheet of paper. He flipped it open and read, '_I found semen in the soil samples, check as soon as you get in.'_ He looked up at Hodges. "What's this," he asked, holding up the sheet of paper.

Hodges looked up and shrugged. "I guess it's the note that was supposed to be left with Wendy. I knew I wrote one."

"Okay, what does it mean?" Warrick asked, rubbing his head.

"Exactly what it says, I found semen in the soil sample so I left it with Wendy. She's analyzing it now," Hodges answered with a shrug.

Warrick laughed. "Since when don't you take something like this directly to Grissom? This is authentic ass kissing material."

Hodges' face turned red. "Look, I'm sure Wendy will take it to him when she'd done analyzing. It had to do with DNA, not Trace," he explained.

Warrick didn't buy it, but didn't feel like trying to figure out why Hodges did what he did. He looked down at the file again and sighed. "There was nothing else interesting about the soil?"

Hodges shook his head. "No, it's the same sandy soil that covers most of the county. The semen is the distinguishing feature."

Warrick nodded. "Okay, well thanks anyway. I'll be sure to let Grissom know what we found."

Hodges just shrugged and went back to work. Shaking his head, Warrick headed for the DNA lab, a spring in his step; there might be a break in the case, and Hodges was acting human. It was starting out to be a good day.

* * *

Catherine closed the car door and pushed her hair behind her ear. She frowned when she saw Grissom's car parked in the same space it had been in this morning. She hurried into the building and headed for his office. It was possible that he'd gotten the same spot, but she had a bad feeling that he hadn't gone home. 

She reached his office door and stopped short. The door was closed, but she could see through the blinds that he was at his desk. His head was down, and she could tell he was sleeping. She tried the door handle and found it unlocked. She pushed it open slowly and walked in. All lights but for the lamp on his desk were off.

She walked softly to the desk not wanting to startle him. She gently shook his shoulder, calling his name. "Gil, Gil, wake up."

He stirred and turned his head. "Sara?" he murmured.

Catherine smiled. "No, Gil it's me, Catherine. You're at your desk and shift is starting."

He jerked up and looked around. "Damn, what time is it?"

Catherine glanced at her watch. "Nearly eleven, time for all night dwellers to be up and working."

He groaned. "Last I looked it was five o'clock. I must have drifted off sometime after that." He straightened, his back protesting as the muscles stretched.

"Gil, you can't mean you've been here all day," Catherine asked, concerned.

"I didn't plan it. I was gathering information on that list you gave me, trying to get an idea of who the most likely suspect is and I guess time just got away from me." He searched the desk and found the file he wanted. "Here are my notes, get them to Brass so he can begin bringing them in for questioning. I noticed Lurie wasn't on the list. Does that mean that he wasn't on two or more of the other lists, or did you leave him off purposefully?"

Catherine cocked an eyebrow. "I left him off, he was on all the lists, but I figured adding him to this list would be redundant."

"You're right." He stood up and grabbed his jacket. "Can you handle assignments? If nothing new comes in just have everyone stay with what they're doing, if something does you can pull Greg, and Nick if he needs help."

"Fine, where are you going?" she asked as she watched him head for the door.

"Home to grab a shower and something to eat, I'll be back before the end of shift." He turned and headed down the hall. He didn't get far though, Judy was hurrying towards him.

"Dr. Grissom!" she called. "Dr. Grissom, this was waiting on my desk when I came in. I think it's from the same person who sent the other one. I didn't open it." She held out both hands, an envelope braced between them. "I only touched the edges."

Catherine appeared at his elbow and handed him a pair of gloves. He slipped them on and took the envelope. He opened it and took out the single sheet of paper. Unfolding it he read, _'Decided not to wait, needed a little taste, Search if you wish, you'll not find this tasty dish.'_

**TBC….**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** All rights reserved for CBS.

**A/n:** Sorry there was no update last week, on this or Sara's Journey. It was Hell week at work, and I didn't have time to sit for more than five minutes, much less concentrate on writing a chapter that would in any way resemble anything good. I hope you like this chapter. :D:D

**AND A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO CHELLES!!!!** You're the best retroactive Beta in the world, though I'm sure you'd be great at current events too, but hey, you have enough on your plate! I hope you had a very nice birthday, and I'm sorry I'm late with this. So, how does it feel to be 80:P:P:P Just kidding. I know you're only 79:D:D:D:D:D:

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Captain Jim Brass leaned forward and picked up the glass of Scotch, sniffed it, and downed it in one swift gulp. He set the glass back down and poured another finger of Scotland's finest before addressing the man seated opposite him.

"I've got everyone scouring the missing persons reports, singling out every brown eyed brunette, and a report is being run on the Eleven O'clock news, asking that anyone who believes that they know someone who is missing, but haven't reported it, to call in to a special hotline number." Brass lifted the glass again and downed the second shot.

Grissom swirled his own scotch, watching as the light from the lamp caught the deep amber of the liquid, reminding him of the times he'd stared into eyes of a similar color, eyes that belonged to the woman he loved. "I don't know, Jim, I don't think it will be that easy. This guy could be just playing with us. While we're out searching for some new victim, the trail from the last one is going cold."

"So, don't let it go cold. I've got this end. My guys are out there, and if this sicko does have a new victim we'll find out who she is. You go- follow your evidence- get the goods on this guy, so that when I bring him in- he stays in." Brass stared his friend in the eye. He knew what Grissom was thinking, what he feared. "Don't worry about Sara, she's not here, she's safe. If this guy had something in mind for her, if he's made it personal with you, then he's out of luck. He doesn't know where she is, in fact, the only person who knows that is you.

Grissom nodded. Catherine was the only person that he'd told the truth to, everyone else thought that Sara was at home, resting. No one could have known that she'd suddenly take off, not even him, so this killer, if he'd planned to take her as one of his victims, was out of luck. He didn't like to think of another woman, unaware of the danger she was in, taking her place, but there was that part of him, the part of him that was selfish, that was so very glad that that woman was NOT Sara. "You're right Jim." He quickly downed his whiskey and stood. "I'll give you a call as soon as we have something."

* * *

Catherine submerged the note in a tray containing the Ninhydrin solution, then, after removing it, she clipped it into the fume hood. She closed the door and set the timer. "Okay, nothing to do now but wait," she muttered, pulling off her gloves and tossing them into a paper bag. 

She pushed back from the counter and looked at the clock, sighing when she saw it was only half past twelve. She stood and headed for the door, deciding that now was as good a time as any for a snack. She hated these moments in the day, when all the evidence was being processed and nothing new was coming in. She felt like she was standing still, doing nothing to find the guy responsible for the murders of three vital women. Now a possible fourth was out there, undergoing God knew what, and here she was about to have a snack, it just seemed so cold.

She walked into the breakroom and headed for the mini-fridge. She pulled it open and stared inside. "I know I put a yogurt in here the other day." She pushed containers aside, looking behind a sandwich bag, but found nothing. "Figures," she said with a sigh, "it doesn't matter what they bring in, I put a yogurt in the fridge and it becomes the most desirable item in there." She pushed the door closed and looked over at the coffee machine. "And there isn't even any fresh coffee."

Twenty minutes later she made her way to her office, balancing a fresh cup of coffee and a bagel she'd pilfered from the cabinet. She figured it was payment for her yogurt. She rounded her desk and noticed a slip of paper had been dropped there. She picked it up and read. _'Catherine, Going home to change and get cleaned up, be back before morning. New case came in, details are under note, call me if something important comes up. Grissom' _

Catherine sighed and dropped the note and picked up the assignment slip that was under the note. It was a 419 out at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway. "Hmm, looks like Greg's going to get a break from all those serial killers."

* * *

Greg straightened the stack of papers he'd printed out and turned back to the computer. He still hadn't found any exact matches to the case they were working, but he had a better feel for the kind of guy who might mutilate woman the way their victims had been. He was having a little trouble staying focused. In each killers profile they'd list other killers who had been convicted of similar crimes, so that it was easy to get distracted from reading about the ones that might have the most in common with their current situation. At the moment his eyes were glued to the screen reading about a woman named Katherine Knight who had skinned her lover and decapitated him. A knock at the door made him jump and he looked up to find Catherine looking at him. 

"Hey-Hi-Hello, Catherine. You –uh, you surprised me," Greg said, his eyes shifting from her to the computer screen. "Say, when you were with Eddie, did you ever think about-uh, killing him?"

Catherine didn't answer immediately, but looked thoughtful. Finally she said, "There were times I could have cheerfully stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife, just for fun." She smiled and walked closer.

Greg gulped. "Scared of you."

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one. Grissom's a little on the nervous side himself. I like it that way, means you'll never get on my bad side." She watched as his face paled and his mouth hung open. She finally let out the laugh that she'd been holding back since he'd asked her about killing Eddie. "C'mon Greg, there are times when we all think, 'God, I could just kill,' well, whoever, but we don't. At least the majority of us don't. But, as I'm sure you're aware," she nodded towards the computer, "some of us don't have that voice in their head telling them to stop. And that's where we come in. We catch those people and put them behind bars."

Greg sighed with relief, but didn't completely relax. Catherine may be kidding, but he had the feeling that she could rip a guy's heart out if she had to. He knew all to well the number of suspects she'd had to shoot, in fact she was the only one on the team to have ever shot someone in the line of duty, so he figured a little caution couldn't be a bad thing. "Sure, that's what we're here for." He pushed his chair back and realized that she hadn't just wandered into the computer lab by accident. "Did you need something?"

"419 out at the Speedway, Grissom said if anything came in you were up." Catherine leaned against the counter.

"Anything happening on the Serial case, I haven't heard anything since Warrick told me about the soil." Greg leaned back in his chair.

"Nope, the DNA from the semen in the soil sample is being processed, and the last note is processing for fingerprints as we speak, but I don't have much hope of finding anything," Catherine said with a sigh.

"What note, there was another note?" Greg shifted forward.

"Oh, I thought you'd heard. Yeah, there was another note left for Grissom. It seems the killer may have his next victim. Brass is on it." Catherine stood and started for the door.

"What's Grissom doing?" Greg stood.

"He was here all day yesterday so he's gone home to freshen up and get something to eat. He'll be back later."

"But, what about this new note? Isn't he doing something about that?" Greg asked.

"Everything's being done that needs to be done. Grissom has to take care of himself too." Catherine looked at him, puzzled.

"You know the description of all the victims; you know who the most likely suspect is. Catherine, Grissom is blind if he doesn't see it. The killer is killing Sara, over and over. The evidence points to the killer being in the medical profession, someone who has made this personal. We all know who fits that bill. Grissom should be here, he should be protecting Sara, not pushing her away!" Greg stormed around the room.

Catherine stared at him, surprised. She'd never seen him this angry. "Greg, I don't know what you think you know about why Sara left, but believe me, Grissom wants nothing more than to keep her safe. And she is safe. If this killer is after Sara he's going to be disappointed. Right now we're at a stand still as far as the evidence is concerned, and as much as I hate to admit it, we might be better off if the killer leaves us another victim."

Greg stopped pacing and stared at her. "Do you know who you sound like? That guy from that camera crew that followed us around a couple of years ago, but Sara set him straight. Yes, it might get us more evidence, but it certainly isn't the option we're looking for."

Catherine sighed. "Greg, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just frustrated with the waiting and I want this guy behind bars. Yes, it's possible that the killer is targeting Sara, and if that's true, after what she's already been though, well, I don't even know how that'd feel, but all we have to go on is what we have, as we have to follow that- the evidence- no matter how slowly it develops." She walked to the door and turned around. "Now, get out to that 419; do your job. That's all we can do. If you think you'll need help, call Nick." She turned to leave but turned back. "And Greg, Sara is going through some things right now, and we have no idea how she's feeling, but believe me when I say, she is Grissom's number one priority."

* * *

Grissom sat on the couch, staring at the phone. "You can't put it off any longer, you have to call her," he muttered out loud. He looked at the clock. It was after midnight, but he knew that she'd still be up. She thought best at night. Decisively he grabbed the phone and hit the speed dial button that would connect him with Sara. 

The phone rang five times and he was about to hang up when she finally answered. "Hey, I was just thinking about you."

She sounded so much happier than she had been in the last few months, but he knew he had to get through this, so he cut right to the chase. "Sara, are you sitting?" He hated that he sounded so serious. He could imagine the smile he'd heard in her voice when she answered disappear from her face.

"Yes, Gil, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"

Grissom rushed in. "First of all I want you to promise me that you'll remain calm."

"But, Gil..."

He cut her off with a terse, "I said promise!"

When she came back, he let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, okay, I promise. Now tell me what's wrong. Is it Greg, has he been hurt? Or Nick, Warrick, Catherine, are they okay?"

He hadn't thought she'd think that, and he rushed to reassure her. "No, no, the team is fine, everyone here is fine, but I do have some bad news." He waited for her to say something, he felt as if a block of ice were where his stomach should be. When she said nothing, he continued. "You remember you asked me to find your friend, Angela?"

"Yes. You couldn't find her? That's okay; it's not always possible..." Grissom heard the relief in her voice and cut her off.

"Listen, Sara, You remember I told you I was working on a tough case?" She didn't answer, but he figured that she remembered so he rushed on. "Well, when you told me your friend's name it sounded familiar. I wanted to confirm my suspicions before I talked to you, that's why I haven't been in touch. Your friend, Angela, well she was living here in Vegas, she was a cop on the police force actually."

Sara remained silent. "Sara, honey, she was, um, she was killed. The latest victim of the guy we've been looking for. He's killed two other women, all within the last year and a half." He hadn't meant for it to come out that way, so cold. She still hadn't said anything. "Sara, honey, are you there?" Met with silence, he started to panic. "Sara, Sara, are you there? God, Sara, say something!"

Finally he heard a noise, a sob, and then, "Are you sure?"

His heart ached at the defeat in her voice. "Yes, Dear, I'm so sorry."

Another moment of silence, then, "Tell me everything."

"Sara, I'm not sure..." She cut him off.

"Gil, this was my friend, the one person that was there for me at a terrible time in my life, and though I hadn't seen her in years, it feels as though I just saw her yesterday, so just tell me about the case, help me to understand how this happened."

Grissom sighed and reluctantly brought her up on the case. When he mentioned Lurie she gasped. "Do you think he did it?"

"As much as I'd love for it to be him, it just doesn't fit, or it fits too well." He wasn't sure if he should tell her about the notes he'd received, but in the end he didn't think it'd be fair for him to hold that back. After he'd finished, he was met once again with silence.

Moments later she sighed. "Do you want me to come back?"

His heart leapt. "More than anything," He rasped. "But, you shouldn't. Not only would you regret it because you didn't get a chance to finish this journey you're on, but you might me safer there. If the killer is after you, or killing you over and over in his mind by killing these women, we have an advantage in that he doesn't know where you are. So, though I'd love to see you, right now you need to be there."

When Sara answered he could hear a hint of a smile in her voice. "You're right; I need to do this, though it scares me to death sometimes." She paused. "I have to say, I'm surprised that I'm having such a nice time. When I'm not actually thinking about what's coming up, it's actually almost fun. Don't get me wrong, I miss you, even more than I thought was possible, but, well, you wouldn't believe what the Inn has become." She told him of all that had happened since she'd arrived in Tamales Bay, concluding with what she'd been thinking about before he'd called. "I don't even know where the time went. I must have drifted off because it was around eight last I remember, and now it's after midnight, and by the crick in my neck, I've been sitting here a while, not that I mind with memories like that."

He laughed. "If I remember correctly, I was sitting there praying you'd touch me, but afraid you'd look down and see what you were doing to me. I have no idea what was even on the television."

"When I'm with you, everything else fades away. I'm with you, and that's all that matters. So, I know what you mean." Sara's voice broke and Grissom's chest constricted. She took a deep breath and when she spoke again it was a forcefulness that he was used to when she spoke of a case she felt powerfully about. "Catch this guy. Make sure he pays for what he's done."

Grissom nodded, though she couldn't see it. "Sara, believe me, it's my number one priority."

"Thank you." She whispered. "Oh, my battery is getting low. I have to go. I love you."

"I love you too, get some sleep. You need your energy." He smiled as he hung up the phone. He felt energized and ready to get back to work.

* * *

Greg got out of his car, grumbling about the interruption in his research. He followed the traffic cones around the race track until he came to the line of garages on pit lane. Detective Vega was standing a few feet away from a white tarp, talking to a man in blue coveralls. Greg walked over to the tarp and kneeled down. He opened his kit, pulled out a pair of gloves and put them on. He reached out and pulled the sheet back. He knew he couldn't touch the body until David got there, but maybe he could get a sense of what happened. 

As soon as the head came into view he froze. She was blonde, or had been. Her head had been shaved, and the blond hair scattered around her. She had no face, and Greg knew that when he lifted the tarp further he'd find that her heart had been cut out, and her intestines removed. One thing was certain, she didn't resemble Sara. He looked up and found Vega walking towards him. "Do me a favor, call Grissom. There's something off in our killers MO.

**TBC…**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI or any of its characters. All other characters, and the story, are mine.

**A/n:** Just want to say thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. I appreciate it very much.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Grissom kneeled beside the body and pulled back the white covering. He sighed at what he saw and stood up.

Greg watched this and nodded when Grissom stood. "Do you see what I mean?"

"Yeah, it definitely looks like a copycat, though it could be the killer trying to throw us off."

"C'mon, Grissom, she's totally different than the Back Nine Killer…"

"Back Nine Killer, Greg? Where did you get that?" Grissom interrupted, lifting an eyebrow.

Greg shrugged. "It's what the media is calling him, and that's exactly my point. There are too many differences, mainly concerning those things that weren't told to the media. One, she's blonde, two, her heart was cut out, but not left in her right hand, also, she was disemboweled, but as with the heart, the intestines weren't left with the body, but most telling, at least to me, is that no medical implement has been left on or near the body. All these things were kept from the media; they didn't know all the victims were brunette, or the particulars of the body parts, or about the medical implement. And I'm sure Doc is going to find further differences when he looks at the body."

Grissom nodded. "I agree, Greg. All these things were kept from the media, but let's look at it from another view point."

Greg scowled, but nodded.

"Who besides us knows those particulars? The killer, Greg. Take for instance the location. If someone were trying to copy the crime, why leave the body at the Raceway? As you say, thanks to the media, the public is well aware of where the victims were found, so why would a copycat killer leave the body here?" Grissom gestured around the pit lane.

Greg followed his gesture, a disgruntled look on his face. For once he wanted Grissom to be wrong. "Okay, you could be right, but that doesn't mean that you are. Maybe the copycat killer couldn't leave the body on a golf course because of tightened security, so he left her here instead…" Greg trailed off.

Grissom smiled sadly. "And the real killer might have been forced to change locations for that reason also. Greg, you know killers escalate, change. Sometimes that happens due to something internal, but it can also have external causes. A serial killer's desire to kill is usually kindled by someone in their life, someone they hate, but for whom they can't express their hate. So, they bottle it up and if they have the ability to kill, to unleash their hatred on someone, whether it is a stranger that reminds them of the person they hate, or that person directly, they can be pushed to kill. And then they get a taste of it. So, they kill again, usually sticking with victims that remind them of the person they hate, but eventually their focus changes, and it's no longer about getting rid of the person they hate, but it becomes about the killing. You've been reading up on serial killers. What have you found to be the biggest cause for their killing sprees?"

Greg inhaled deeply, thinking. "It seems a lot of the times, with the men especially, it's their mothers that set them on that trail. Take Ed Gein, his mother was very strict, wouldn't let him make friends in school, and told him, and his older brother, that all women were whores. When he grew up he grew closer to his mother, and was suspected in the death of his brother, who had begun to disagree with their mother. After his mother died he began to dig up fresh bodies, disassemble them, tan them and wear certain pieces. Some said he wanted to be a woman, others said he wanted to be his mother, as all the women he dug up were her age. He killed two women when he ran out of fresh dead bodies. Of course everyone was shocked at this. He was the neighborhood handyman, and babysat a lot of the neighborhood children."

Grissom nodded. "Yes, and later he was the inspiration for Norman Bates, in Hitchcock's Psycho, Buffalo Bill, in the Silence of the Lambs, and Leatherface, in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. But we can't guarantee that that's what motivates our guy. The age of the victims would indicate that it was a younger woman that was his trigger. And given the length of time between each killing, it would seem that there is a trigger, something that made this killer want to kill at a particular time. And given the amount of media coverage on the latest murder, and the proximity of another victim, just after I received a note from the killer, saying that they had someone already, it may be that this time the killer rushed, chose someone who didn't exactly fit the mold of his usual victim, and was unable to leave the body at the usual location. Plus, they may not have been able to get their hands on a medical implement, due to the hospitals scrutinizing their stock. Look, I'm not saying you're wrong, but give me the benefit that I might be right. We'll process this scene like any other. If we find evidence that supports your theory, I'll concede, if this was a copycat, they probably weren't as careful as the original, and therefore more likely to make mistakes."

"Okay, I'll start processing the surrounding area, make sure we didn't miss anything in the initial sweep. The body's on its way to Doc, maybe he'll be able to tell us more." Greg gave a small salute and headed off to get to work.

"You know he could be right, maybe you just want it to be our guy, not a copycat." Catherine spoke from behind Grissom.

Grissom swung around, a frown on his face. "Why would you say that?"

"C'mon Gil, we all know who this killer seems to be going after. If this is our guy, then you could feel a bit better about Sara, like maybe the other three victims were all a coincidence, and it's not her that he's going after." Catherine crossed her arms, watching him.

Grissom cleared his throat. "Maybe you're right. This victim was blonde. Maybe… we don't know why our killer has gone after the women he has, we assumed that the physical appearance of the first three victims was what drew our guy, but maybe there was something else, something the victims had in common that the killer was drawn to, something that had nothing to do with their look."

Catherine was surprised that he'd admitted that much. "Look, I understand where you're coming from; I just don't want you to get your hopes up. Where the evidence leads…"

"We follow." Grissom finished.

"No matter where it leads us." Catherine stood with him, watching the activity always present at a crimescene. She couldn't help but hope that he was right. It would make things much easier.

* * *

"Hey, Doc, here's the Jane Doe from the Raceway," David said as he wheeled the gurney in.

Doc Robbins looked up from the death certificate for an automobile casualty he'd been filling out. "Put her over there, David," He said, heaving himself up and grabbing his crutch.

David nodded and pushed the gurney into place. Leaning forward he pulled back the sheet that covered her face.

Doc laid he crutch against the counter in front of the gurney and leaned over the body. "Hmm, yes, this looks familiar," he mumbled as he pulled the sheet further down. He squinted at the opening in the chest cavity and frowned. He reached for a magnifying glass from the tool tray and took a closer look. He moved down to the opening in the abdominal cavity and shook his head. He lifted both arms, and on finding the arm pits trauma free, searched the rest of the body for possible bleed points. He sighed. "David, set up the sexual assault kit while I get a sample of her blood and urine. Something is off."

* * *

Greg surveyed the area around where the body had lain. He was disturbed by the amount of blood that marred the area. The other bodies had had very little blood around them. He added this to the long list of differences between this and the other victims. He looked over and noted the white tarp that had covered the body. "Hey, Vega! Why didn't the coroner take this tarp?"

Vega walked over and looked down. He shrugged. "I don't know, but why would they; they have their own sheets to cover the body."

"Well, who covered the body with this one?"

Vega shrugged again, "Maybe Mr. King. He's the one who discovered the body." He looked around and called to the guy in the blue overhauls, who he'd been talking to earlier. "Hey, Mr. King, did you cover the body with this tarp?"

The man shook his grizzled head, calling around the stogie clamped between his teeth. "No, sir. She was covered with that when I found her."

Greg stared at him. "And you didn't think we might need to know this?"

Mr. King shrugged, "It didn't seem the most important detail, no."

Greg sighed and took out his phone. He dialed and waited for an answer. "Hey, David, quick question."

David's voice came back, muffled. "Sure, what is it?"

"Who removed the tarp from the body?"

David hesitated. "Aw, Gee, Greg. I know you guys thought you were helping, but we have our own covers for the bodies, you know, sterile ones. I just moved that one aside."

Greg shook his head. "Were you wearing gloves?"

"Of course, I always do, why?"

"Because none of us covered the body, so it's very likely that the killer did."

"Oh, well, that's different, isn't it?"

"It sure is, our killer displays the bodies, he doesn't cover them up. I'm pretty sure this isn't the same guy."

* * *

Wendy Simms stared at the clock and watched the second hand sweep around and around. She'd only gone home for a few hours, she just hadn't been able to stay away as the DNA from the soil sample processed.

"Hello, Ms. Simms, How's your big break coming?" Hodges sauntered in, arms swinging at his sides.

"Slow," Wendy murmured. "What are you doing here?"

"Just dropped by to see how you were doing. I can leave if you prefer," Hodges said with a grin, turning as if to leave.

"NO!" Wendy exclaimed, then realized how desperate it sounded, and amended. "I mean, you can't make things any worse, can you?"

Hodges raised an eyebrow. "There's a compliment if I ever heard one. '_Sure, Hodges, You can stay, you can't be much worse than the hundreds of locusts that are plaguing me." _Hodges used both hands to swat at the empty air as he squeaked this in a fair imitation of Wendy.

Wendy looked down, unable to hide the smile on her face. She looked back up and gestured for him to sit down. "You know what I meant."

Hodges nodded as he sat, and cleared his throat. "So, how much longer before you have the results?"

Wendy sighed. "I don't know. To be honest it doesn't usually take this long unless I'm processing several samples at once." She turned to face him fully. "Anything going on in Trace?"

"Not right now, for once I'm caught up, though I hear a lot will be coming through with that new case that might be related to the Back Nine Killer." He cleared his throat. "Say, can you help me with something?"

Wendy hesitated. "Sure, what is it?"

"Well, I need to ask you some questions about your job, and maybe get your opinion on other stuff that happens in the lab. It's kind of an experiment, but I won't be ready for a couple of days." Hodges smiled and tapped her on the shoulder. "I knew I could count on you."

Wendy rolled her eyes and glanced at the clock.

"So, what are you doing for…" Hodges broke off and glanced down at his cell. "Oh, gotta go, never time to rest in the Trace game."

Wendy watched him leave and shook her head. "Why do I bother?" she asked herself.

* * *

Doc Robbins looked up as the door swung open.

Grissom and Catherine walked in and stopped when they saw the coroner looking at them.

Grissom cleared his throat. "You paged us?"

"I did, it's about your victim from the speedway." He waved them over and gestured to the draped body in front of him. "On the surface it's very similar to your other murders. But on further examination you can see the differences easily." He pulled back the sheet showing them what would have been obvious had they not been distracted. "As I expected, there was no sexual assault. And though I've sent her blood and urine to Tox, I don't think we need the results to know what killed her." He pointed to the skin over where the heart would have been, and further down, over the abdomen. "She was stabbed repeatedly in the heart and stomach. It looks like the heart and intestines were removed in an attempt to disguise the cause of death."

"Anything else, Doc?" Catherine asked.

"Well, she wasn't bled. She was covered in blood before we cleaned her up, and lividity suggests that she wasn't moved after death." He looked up at Grissom. "I'm sorry, Gil. It looks like you have a new killer on your hands."

Grissom nodded. "Yes, and our old one is still out there, some woman at his mercy, and our time is running out."

* * *

**TBC…**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI or any of its characters. I did take inspiration from You Kill Me for this chapter, and used a bit of the dialogue, but I still don't own it. 

**A/n:** Okay, I'm sorry to say I have to take a short break. So, there won't be a Sara's Journey update this week, and I won't be updating either story next week. Work and home life have been hectic, and it has taken its toll. I hope to recharge my batteries and organize my thoughts so that I don't disappoint you guys in these stories. My next update will be March 31st. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. 

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Grissom leaned forward and watched as Spike, his orange kneed tarantula, stalked his dinner. Said dinner, a white mouse, wasn't making Spike's pre-dinner game of cat and mouse, so to speak, much of a challenge.

"Sorry, little guy," Grissom whispered. "At least it will be over quickly." 

The phone rang and he sighed, moving to answer it. He was pleasantly surprised when he saw it was Sara. "Hey, what's got you up this early?"

"Couldn't sleep, too much on my mind," her husky voice whispered over the line.

Grissom nodded to himself. "You want to tell me about it?"

Grissom settled himself in his seat while he listened to her. His heart leapt when she asked if she should come home until her mother returned, but he quickly realized that that would be the wrong thing to do. If she came home she might put off meeting her mother when the time came. Plus, he didn't want her anywhere near the killer they were after. He left that part out when he explained why she shouldn't come back, but made sure she knew that he wanted nothing more than for her to come home. "I've been working doubles everyday, not necessarily because I have to, but because the house seems so empty without you there. Hank misses you too." 

"I miss you, and him, too. It seems so odd to wake up and know you're not there beside me, or just down the hall, or hell, even at work, but I'll see you later. I miss your smell. I miss your arms around me, and I miss your mouth on my skin."

Grissom's spine tingled at her raspy tone, and the words didn't help either. Trying to stay on track, he cleared his throat. "I miss those things about you too. But the logical part of me says that you should stay where you are. Things here are still up in the air. The guys are asking about you though, I haven't said much, but they're getting persistent. Greg especially, he actually seems kind of mad about something. What should I tell them? Catherine is the only one who knows where you are."

When she answered this her voice had lost the sultriness of a moment before, and she sounded worried. "Just tell them I'm visiting my mother. No one else knows about her, or how she is, so they should buy that." She ran her fingers over the comforter. "So, how's the case going?"

Frustration welled up inside him and he sighed. He told her about the slowness of the case, and the copycat they now had to deal with. 

She invited him to tell her about it, but he didn't want the mess he was dealing with to taint his time with her. Her earlier talk of missing his scent had reminded him of something though. He'd been having some very vivid dreams lately, and that, he wouldn't mind sharing. 

He smiled when she said she found his voice soothing. He felt anything but soothed. His dreams had actually been getting out of control. He began telling her of his latest. "Well, the latest one was a doozy. We were in high school together and we were making out in the back seat of a car, I guess we were at some make out spot, wherever it was, it was dark, and very quiet and I was nervous, don't ask me why. Anyway, we'd been kissing for quite some time when suddenly I felt your hand slipping up my leg. Now, in high school this is something I would not have known how to deal with, but I had no problem in this dream. I just returned the favor." He glanced up and noticed that his door was open, and cleared his throat. "You know, maybe this should wait until I'm home and can give it my full attention. How 'bout I call you later?"

He waited for an answer and was confused when all he heard was soft breathing. "Sara? Sara? Um, are you there?" He waited for her to answer, but was surprised by a soft snore. He laughed, disconnected their phones and called back, knowing that her voicemail would pick up. "Hey, Sweetheart, I know you need your sleep, so I'm not going to feel insulted because you fell asleep on me. In fact, I find it comforting to hear your soft breathing again, I miss that. I'll talk to you later. Stay strong, I love you. Bye." He hung up and returned to his paperwork. 

* * *

Wendy walked into the DNA lab, fingers crossed. Her hopes were dashed when she saw that the DNA analysis still wasn't done. "God, how long is this going to take!" she cried in exasperation. 

Hodges poked his head in and smiled. "Got a free minute?"

Wendy looked up and sighed. "What is it, Hodges?"

He shrugged. "You said you'd help me with a little experiment, well, is now a good time?"

Sighing she looked at the clock. "Sure, it's time for my lunch anyway." Getting up she followed him down the hall to the break room. 

On entering the room she noticed the cards he had stacked in front of his chair. "So, what is this experiment about?"

Hodges cleared his throat. "It's a thought experiment. I'll give you a scenario, and you tell me, as a criminalist, how you would go about solving it. I think it's always best for us lab rats to keep our deduction skills sharpened. 

Wendy was skeptical, but decided to go along. There was something about Hodges when he looked so excited that was oddly… endearing. 

* * *

Greg walked down the hall towards the print lab. He'd been on his way back to the lab when Mandy had paged him to let him know she had an ID on the Raceway victim. He glanced into Grissom's office as he passed and saw him leaning back in his chair, smiling and talking on the phone. 

He shook his head. How could the guy do it, how could he sit there and talk to someone and smile like that when Sara was God knows where? He couldn't help but think of the last time he'd seen Sara. She'd seemed so upset, and so unlike Sara. And the look of anguish on her face before she'd rushed out of the locker room had worried him. He'd meant to look for her later, to invite her out for drinks or something, but she'd gone before he'd found time. 

His resentment towards Grissom grew all the more. Greg knew that if Grissom had been there for her she'd never have left, and now he was lying to them, and acting like nothing was wrong. 

Greg managed to cool down a bit by the time he reached the print lab and he took a deep breath before he entered. 

Mandy was rushing around and didn't notice him standing there at first. He watched her for a few moments before catching her attention. "Hey, Mandy, you have that ID for me?" 

Mandy came to a halt as she was straightening her desk and looked up. "Oh, Greg, sure, it's right here." She picked up a folder and handed it to him. "Her name was Donna Kennon; she was a waitress at the Chalet casino and spa. Here's something interesting, she was also a stripper at Chanteuse. Anyway, it's all there. Now, if you'll excuse me I have an appointment with a Pop Tart." She smiled and walked out. 

Greg opened the file. Aside from the employment record her address was also listed. He took out his phone and called Vega, asking him to meet him there. 

* * *

Greg pulled up to the house and sighed. If a waitress-slash- stripper could afford a place like this then he had to have a little talk with Ecklie. 

Vega pulled up behind him and they met at the end of the walk. "So, you thinking what I am?" Vega asked. 

"We're looking for a sugar daddy?" Greg guessed. 

"That- or I have to seriously reconsider my choice of career," Vega said with a laugh. 

They walked up the brick path and up onto the columned porch. "How old was the vic?" Vega asked. 

"Twenty-four." Greg nodded. "Yeah, not exactly the look that most young women go for, I didn't even know that Las Vegas did columns, seems a little southern to me." 

"Well, if she didn't pay for the place, maybe the person who did has southern roots." Vega walked up to the door and knocked. 

Several minutes later when there had been no answer, Greg reached out with his gloved hand and tried the door. Surprisingly it opened at his touch. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Hello, is anyone home?" he called. 

The house looked clean, decorated with light pine furniture and a white color scheme. "They walked through the house, calling as they went. They searched every room, and couldn't find anyone. 

Greg started processing in the bedroom, and worked out from there. 

Vega found the victim's utility bills and opened each one "Looks like we have a winner.' He said, stopping in the door. 

Greg raised his eyebrows in question. "What'd you find?"

"None of the bills are in the victim's name. They're all in the name of one, George Townsend."

"Sounds like someone we should talk to." Greg straightened. "I found signs of sex in the vic's bed, but that's hardly surprising. Question is, was she with this George Townsend, or someone else?"

* * *

Grissom walked down the hall thinking about going home. It was past time, but he just wasn't ready to go to that empty house. He passed Greg and said hi, a bit surprised when he responded with an almost hostile, 'Yeah, whatever." Grissom shook his head and continued down the hall. He'd have to have a talk with Greg soon. 

He stopped as he neared the breakroom and watched Hodges playing around with what looked like a doll. "What are you doing?" he asked. 

Hodges jumped, looking guilty. "Oh, I was, uh, just trying to develop a board game--based on this place, but, uh, not in any legally actionable sense. You get evidence, scenarios, and analysis, try to solve diabolical murders…" he trailed off, looking down at the game board. 

Grissom was interested. At least Hodges wasn't trying to comfort him or wanting him to talk about how he felt. This was the perfect thing to take his mind off the case for a while, and keep him from going home. "I like games."

Hodges was surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah." Grissom sat down. 

Hodges grinned. "Okay, let's play.

Grissom found the case scenario interesting, it was nice to use logic and knowledge to solve a crime and not have to race around and deal with the tedious parts of the job. He really felt satisfied when he solved the crime. Leave it to Hodges to kill himself as a way to show how clever he was. He checked his watch and smiled. "Let's play again."

Hodges nodded, glad to have his mentor all to himself; it felt good. He decided he should offer some sort of platitude about Sara. He started with what seemed obvious. "You weren't ready- to leave-this, the challenges, the puzzles, the job." 

Grissom watched, wondering where this was going. "No."

Hodges smiled, "But Sara was." He realized that Wendy was also ready to move on. "You can't stand in the way of that. When it's time for someone to move on, you just got to let them go."

Grissom thought about telling him the truth, but decided it would be too much trouble. "Let's play the game, shall we?"

Hodges nodded, deciding he'd done his part. 

* * *

Wendy stomped into the DNA lab and frowned. How many times was she going to let herself start to feel something for that little geek? "Mindy Bimms, clumsy yet buxom DNA tech," she hissed. "Uugh!" She paced the room trying to calm herself. She was interrupted by a beep. Spinning around she raced to the computer. "Yes!" she exclaimed. "Finally, it's about damn time." As soon as the paper finished printing, she grabbed it, smiling. Her smile slowly faded as she read the results. "Holy Shit! No way!"

**TBC…**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** All rights reserved for CBS

**A/n:** Thanks for being patient. I hope you like this chapter. :D:D

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Wendy hurried down the hall, looking from room to room. Finally, she found Grissom in the breakroom with Hodges. She could hardly refrain from rolling her eyes when she saw they were playing 'the game'. She was still steaming over that whole 'clumsy yet buxom' description. Shaking her head, she knocked on the door. "Grissom, could I see you for a moment?"

Grissom looked up, distracted. "Can it wait?" he asked.

"Um, no, I'm afraid not." Wendy patiently waited as he stood.

"Don't forget where we were?" he said to Hodges.

Hodges smiled, and nodded. "DNA always takes forever anyway," he said with a glance at Wendy.

Wendy took a deep breath and turned her gaze to Grissom. "If you wouldn't mind, could you get Catherine and meet me in the DNA lab?"

He nodded and watched as she turned and hurried down the hall. He turned to look at Hodges. "I take it she's seen her game counterpart? I don't claim to be an expert, but, I do know that women don't like to be belittled. If you like her, you might want to find a way to make it up to her." He turned and headed for Catherine's office.

Hodges slumped in his chair and mumbled. "Who said anything about liking her?"

Grissom and Catherine walked into the DNA lab fifteen minutes later.

* * *

"Okay, what's so important that it's keeping me from my comfy bed?" Catherine asked, coming to a halt next to the counter. "And it had better be good," she warned.

Wendy smiled. "How about this?" She handed Catherine a file.

With a glance at Grissom, Catherine opened it. After she'd studied it for a minute, she looked up, aghast. "This has to be wrong?"

Grissom took the file and studied it. He looked up at Wendy. "You double checked this?"

"Yes, sir. In fact, I triple checked it." She turned to Catherine. "And I can assure you, it is correct."

"So, what does this mean?" Catherine asked.

Grissom shook his head. "I don't know." He looked back down at the DNA results, reading once again. Four DNA profiles, semen from four different men mixed into the soil.

Catherine shook her head. "I've heard of using some kooky things as fertilizer, but never anything like this."

* * *

Greg sat down across from George Townsend. He wasn't what he'd been expecting.

Townsend's spiked blond hair and pierced eyebrows topped piercing blue eyes, and rather chubby cheeks. It would be polite to call the man chunky, but if you were honest he was definitely morbidly obese. He was in his mid thirties, was dressed in Armani, and had an air of entitlement about him.

Greg had watched him from the observation room, along with Vega, for a few minutes. Now, as Greg sat across from him, Greg could hardly swallow his repulsion. Not for the man's physical appearance, but for the way he had been talking, nonstop, about how if they didn't let him leave he was going to call his uncle and have them fired.

"…and if you think that I'm just going to sit here without being told why you dragged me down here, then I'll have no recourse but to call my uncle," he finished, staring at Greg.

Greg cleared his throat. "Sir, if you will give me a minute, we'd love to tell you why we brought you down here. Believe me, we don't just drag people down to the police station for no reason.

George Townsend took out a crisp white handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Then why don't you get to it, I have things to do."

Vega leaned forward. "When was the last time you saw Donna Kennon?"

Townsend blinked. "Who?"

"C'mon, man, don't give us that," Vega urged. "Donna Kennon, when did you last see her?"

Townsend swallowed. "Oh, yeah, Donna. Uh, I don't know, last week?"

Vega looked at Greg, Greg leaned forward. "Hmm, so, you're saying that you haven't seen this woman for a week?" He slid a picture over for Townsend to see.

Townsend glanced at the photo and shrugged. "About that, yeah."

Greg slid another picture over, this one of the bills that had been found at her house, in his name. "And you pay her bills?"

Townsend stared at the new photo. "I-I was trying to help her out." He didn't sound so confident now.

Vega stood. "C'mon, Georgie, are you really telling us that you pay this woman's bills, and own the house she lives in, and you haven't seen her in a week? That wouldn't hold much water, even if we didn't have a witness placing you with Ms. Kennon, not two days ago."

Townsend cleared his throat and straightened. "Hey, I don't know who your 'witness' is, but I have my own witnesses to say I was nowhere near her in the last few days." He stared them down.

"So, you would have been nowhere near her when she was killed?" Greg asked.

Townsend didn't blink. "That's what I'm saying."

Greg raised his eyebrows. "You don't seem surprised. That she's dead, I mean."

Townsend shrugged. "I figured it had to be something big for you to pull me down here."

Greg was about to respond when he felt his phone vibrate against his side. He looked down and saw that Hodges was paging him. He looked up at Vega. "I'll be right back."

"This had better be good, Hodges. I was interrogating a suspect," Greg said as he entered the Trace lab.

Hodges looked up. "Well, your plastic sheet finally got here, and I thought you'd like to know what I found." Hodges was still in a bad mood over his tiff with Wendy. "Of course, if you don't, I can just file it away."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Of course I want it, Hodges."

Hodges reluctantly picked up the file. "Then, here you go," he said, handing it to Greg.

Greg studied it. "You didn't find any trace?"

"That's what it says, isn't it. But read further," he said as he turned back to his microscope.

Greg looked down. "You found a fingerprint?" he asked.

"Again, that's what it says. Read further," he said without looking up.

Rolling his eyes, Greg continued to read. "And you found an admixture of blood?"

Hodges hummed a yes.

And, have they been processed?" Greg pressed.

"You'd have to ask Wendy and Mandy, respectively, about that," Hodges mumbled.

Greg shook his head and headed down the hall, going first to see Mandy, knowing fingerprints would be faster than DNA. He found her talking to Henry.

"So, you see, you should actually feel lucky. He didn't even put me in one of his 'crimes', and you were in two." Mandy patted Henry on the back.

Greg stepped in. "Sorry to interrupt, but…"

"You're here for that fingerprint from the plastic sheet." Mandy guessed. "Well, it's still running."

"Ah, well…" he was interrupted by a beep.

"Well, looks like you're here just in time." She smiled and walked over to the computer.

Henry said, "I'll see you later." He left, muttering something about not being a tweeker.

Greg walked over to stand beside Mandy. "So, what do we have?"

"Looks like your print belongs to one, George Townsend," Mandy said with a smile.

Greg grinned. "That goes a long way to helping us prove who killed Ms. Kennon. It will get us a warrant for Mr. Townsend's house." He chucked her on the shoulder and walked out, dialing his phone.

Greg looked up as Vega walked up to him. "Looks like our day isn't quite over."

Vega nodded and said, "So, we got his print. That places him with the body, but does it mean he killed her?

"Unfortunately, no, it may prove that he covered the body, since the print was in blood, but it doesn't mean that he did the deed." Greg headed for the car. "But it does get us a warrant for his place, and that's where we're headed now. What'd our friend say when you said you had to leave?"

"Not much, he just threatened to call his uncle again. I wish he would, I'd like to meet the guy who condones behavior like that."

They arrived at Townsend's residence after driving about ten minutes. He lived in the Penthouse of the Golden Nugget. They talked to the concierge and were led to a private elevator which took them quickly to the top floor.

"I-I'm not sure I should do this." The concierge hesitated at the door.

Vega tapped him on the shoulder. "We already showed you the warrant; do you want to see it again?" Vega checked his name tag. "James?"

James nodded, and Vega sighed, but handed him the warrant.

James studied it for several moments before returning it to the burly cop. "Okay, I guess its okay," he said nervously, sliding the key card to unlock the door.

The door swung open, and Vega pushed James back and pulled out his gun. He pointed to Greg to stay on the other side of the wall, and walked into the apartment.

Greg and James shared a look.

James wasn't sure what was happening, Greg wasn't too sure himself.

Vega called out that it was clear.

Greg inched his way into the apartment, scrunching up his nose at the smell. "What happened here?"

Vega shook his head, looking at the disaster of an apartment. "I don't know."

**TBC…**


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: All rights reserved for CBS

* * *

**Chapter 16**

Greg scanned the apartment and his nose wrinkled at the stench. "How does he live like this?"

Vega kicked a couple of pizza boxes that were stacked near his feet and jumped when a couple of roaches came running out. "If anybody ever needed a visit by Kim and Aggie, this is the guy."

Greg looked up quizzically, "Who are Kim and Aggie?"

"You've never seen that show?" Vega asked, surprised. "They're the hosts of this show on BBC America called, 'How Clean is Your House?' They go into people's dirty houses and teach them how important it is to keep things clean and how harmful the filth they live in is. I've seen some nasty shit on that show, but, you know, nothing this bad."

Greg nodded, "Yeah, I thought my place was bad, now I don't feel so bad about not making my bed."

Vega shook his head. "You should always make your bed; it makes it more inviting when it comes time to go to sleep."

Greg laughed, "When it's time for me to go to sleep, nothing stands in my way. And if the bed isn't made I don't have to waste time un-tucking the sheets." Greg cautiously stepped further into the apartment. "I guess there's nothing else to do. I'll call Nick, see if he can come over and give me a hand. This certainly isn't a one person job."

Vega backed toward the door. "Why don't I go question the staff, see if Ms. Kennon was seen here recently. I can't believe a woman would step foot in here, but money can move mountains, and obviously," he gave the apartment a sour look, "it can render you blind also."

Greg watched him leave and flipped open his phone.

Nick answered on the fifth ring. "Yeah, wha ya wan?" he mumbled.

Greg cleared his throat. "Uh, Nick? Sorry to wake you, dude, but, uh, I need your help, and Catherine did tell me to call you if I needed someone."

Silence filled the next few seconds until, finally, "Okay, where do you need me?"

Relieved that Nick sounded better, Greg told him the address and hung up the phone. He knew Nick was going to exact a pound of flesh for this, Greg just hoped he'd be able to pay.

* * *

Nick stepped off the elevator and smothered a yawn. Nodding to the guard outside the door he stepped inside and froze in his tracks. "Greg!" he called. "Greg, where are you?"

Greg stepped out of the bathroom and grimaced at the look on Nick's face. "Hey, yeah, I'm so sorry man, I-I know this looks bad, but with the two of us we'll have it processed in no time." He tried to smile convincingly.

Nick growled but snapped on a pair of gloves. "You owe me big. I don't know what I'll ask for yet, but you can bet it's going to be big."

Greg nodded. "Fair enough." He pointed toward the bathroom. "I started in here, but if you want to take over, that's fine."

Nick glanced around. "Nah, man, this is fine. So, what are we looking for?" he asked, picking up a discarded sock from a nearby chair.

"Some idea of where the plastic tarp that was on top of the vic came from, for one. Any blood from the vic, showing she was here at some point, and generally anything to prove that Townsend killed the vic. I'm not picky."

Nick nodded. "Okay, man, lets get to it."

* * *

Grissom pulled apart the lettuce leaves and rinsed them before patting them dry and tearing them into smaller pieces for the bowl. Humming, he opened the refrigerator and brought out a bowl of chopped veggies. He scooped out a cup of the tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and mushrooms into the salad bowl and resealed the bowl, returning it to the top shelf.

Sara had taught him that little trick. As long as you were going to use them within a few days, it was easier to go ahead and pre-chop your preferred salad fixings, or at least the ones that wouldn't get soggy. He chopped a boiled egg and tossed it in, as well as a handful of low fat cheddar cheese. Happy with his salad, he reached for the light Italian dressing, but hesitated. He felt like treating himself, so he reached for the blue cheese instead. Sara didn't have to know. Arranging a few crackers on the plate beside the salad bowl, he grabbed a glass of tea, and headed up the steps to the couch.

Hank jumped up beside him and Grissom picked out a mushroom and fed it to him. Hank licked his lips and Grissom laughed. "Good thing mom isn't here; she'd get onto both of us."

Hank whined and jumped down.

"Sorry, buddy, I miss her too." Grissom moved the salad around with his fork. "I wish she was here for so many reasons, but it'd really be nice to have someone to talk this case out with." He looked down at Hank. "Mind if I talk it out with you?"

Hank cocked his head.

Grissom took that as a yes. "Okay, so, let's see. So, we've got a killer who is killing woman of a certain type; professional, brunette with brown eyes, and unmarried. They also may have no family or limited contact with their family."

Hank whined.

"Yes, I know, it sounds a lot like mom, but let's keep that out of it for now. Now, at the last scene we found soil where the car the killer was driving might have been parked. We can't be positive it's the right one until Nick and Warrick get more to go on, but the fact that the soil had semen from four different men in it makes it stand out."

Hank gave a little woof.

"I know, you'd think that would be a big break, but not so far. We ran them through CODIS and… nothing. That means that we'll have to run them against every male suspect we question, which means we'll have to get their permission because we can't compel them to do it involuntarily." Grissom sighed. "This is the most frustrating case; it may be more frustrating than the Miniature Killer."

Hank growled.

"Yes, I know. That didn't turn out well. Luckily, this time, mom isn't here, and as much as I miss her, that might be for the best." Grissom thought about the victim's descriptions. That coupled with the killer contacting him personally really worried him.

Hank jumped up on the couch and snuggled up next to Grissom.

Grissom smiled. "Okay, I get it, enough case talk. Let's see what we got in the mail," he said, reaching forward to pick up some envelopes off the coffee table. He tossed aside the bills, he didn't look at those until Saturday, the day he assigned for bill paying each month.

He sorted the rest of the mail, coming across a gold envelope. Frowning, he opened it. "I can't believe I forgot about this," he mumbled.

Hank put his paw on Grissom's leg.

Grissom looked down. "I know, how could I forget?" he said, laying the envelope down, smiling. "This gives me an idea." He picked his salad back up and took a big bite, looking down at Hank. "Mom's going to love it."

* * *

Greg yawned as he walked into the lab. It had taken the better part of the afternoon to dig through Townsend's apartment, but in the end they had what they needed. The only thing left to do was confront him with the evidence.

He walked around the corner and found Warrick at the water fountain, swallowing a couple of pills. "Not feeling well," Greg asked.

Warrick jumped. "Nah, man, just a headache." Warrick turned and headed down the hall with Greg. "So, what've you got going on?"

"Ah, well, we've got enough to get our guy on the copy cat murder of that young woman, Donna Kennon."

"You think he might be our guy for the other murders, too?" Warrick quizzed as the rounded the corner.

"I wish, but, no. This is looking like a crime of passion. If you want, you can watch from the observation room while we talk to him. I'm sure he has quite a story to explain away what we found."

"No, I'd better get on finding that car." Warrick sighed.

Greg shrugged. "Okay, see you later."

Twenty minutes later Greg met Vega at PD. "Hey, Greg, you ready?"

Greg nodded. "Oh, yeah, I'm more than ready."

Vega nodded. "Okay, we're down here." He pointed down the hall.

They headed into the interrogation room where Townsend waited."

"You guys are really trying my patience." Townsend started in the moment they entered the room.

"Well, I guess if you had more patience we wouldn't be here," Vega said as he sat opposite him.

"What does that mean?" Townsend sneered.

Vega ignored that. "So, we had an interesting trip this morning."

"And what does that have to do with anything?"

"You really are one messy guy, Townsend," Greg answered. "You live in filth. You could at least hire a maid."

Townsend frowned. "Oh, you've done it now. You had no right to go into my place."

"Oh, but we did. You see, not only is your apartment sloppy, but so are you. You, my friend, left us the perfect excuse to search that pigsty you call a home," Vega taunted.

Townsend shook his head. "You're bluffing. I didn't do anything, so you can't put this on me."

"You know- if you were cleaner, we might not have had anything, but, alas, that's not the case." Greg opened the file he'd brought in. He took out a copy of the fingerprint from the plastic sheet. "See, you were sloppy. This fingerprint, _YOUR_ fingerprint," he pulled out some pictures of Donna Kennon as she'd been when they found her, "on the plastic sheet her body was covered with."

Townsend's face drained of color.

"That fingerprint was in blood. A different type of blood then Donna Kennon's. Now, we're doing DNA testing on that blood. How much do you want to bet that it's your blood?" Greg pressed.

"Why-why would I kill her?" Townsend asked, averting his eyes from the photo.

Greg took out a photocopy of a letter they'd found at Townsend's apartment. "Because of this; a letter in which she tells you that she's found a new sugar daddy, and that she can't wait until she no longer has to feel…" Greg broke off, looking at Vega. "What did she say? Oh, yeah, 'the touch of a Fat Bastard wannabe', and she wouldn't have to spend one more minute in that 'slum pit' you call home."

Vega shook his head. "That was pretty harsh, man. I'd probably want to get back at her too, but, you went a step further."

Greg took out another photocopy, this one of document between Townsend and his uncle, Mac Turner, giving Townsend part ownership in a race car. "We checked, the garage she was found in belongs to you, or to be more precise, your uncle and you." Greg leaned forward. "You invited her out there on some pretext, and maybe she felt bad about the letter she wrote, so she went. Maybe she wanted to make things right. But you had other things in mind. An argument ensued, and you stabbed her with a screwdriver. But now you had a problem. Luckily for you there has been a serial killer going around killing young women. You knew enough details from the papers that you thought you could fake it. But cutting up a woman is hard work, and you cut yourself."

Townsend crossed him arms.

"So, you thought you were okay. But what you didn't know is that there were details left out of the papers. Details that let us know that you weren't our serial, but a copycat, and a poor one at that."

Townsend sputtered, "You can't prove any of this!"

"I think we can." Greg stood up.

"My uncle won't let you get a way with this," Townsend threatened.

"I think you overestimate your uncle," Greg said, taking out a photocopy of another document. "He was the one Donna was leaving you for."

Townsend's face turned red as he studied the lease agreement signed by Max Turner and Donna Kennon. "I want my lawyer."

Greg ginned, "Excellent decision." Greg turned to leave.

Vega smiled. "I'm sure he's a high paid guy who is completely loyal to the one who pays him." Vega stopped and laughed. "On second thought, that might not be such a good thing.

* * *

Greg walked back into the lab smiling. They had Townsend dead to rights and the DNA results would be the nail in his coffin.

He passed by Grissom's office and his good mood evaporated.

Grissom was sitting at his desk, smiling, and concentrating on his computer. Greg watched as he typed something and gave a little laugh.

Grissom looked up and caught Greg standing in the hall, a sneer on his face. He sighed, no time like the present to get to the bottom of Greg's recent attitude. "Greg, can I see you for a minute?" he called.

With nothing to use as an excuse, Greg had no choice but to head into the office. "Did you want an update on the case?"

Grissom hesitated. "Yes, but first I think we need to talk. Greg, I know that I can be accused of living in my own world and not noticing what the people around me are feeling, but I can't help but notice that you've been… upset with me. Can you tell me why?"

Greg stood there, looking sullen. He fought with himself. On the one hand, you shouldn't blow up at your boss, on the other; his boss had just invited him to lay into him. Finally the sense of betrayal he felt at Grissom's seeming lack of concern for Sara made the decision for him. "Fine, you want to know the problem, I'll tell you the problem." Greg paced as he talked. "You know, you're right. You don't notice the people around you. Sara had been going down hill for the last few months, and I noticed it, knew that she was having problems, but, you know, I figured you had too. That you and she were dealing with it together and you'd make sure she got the help she needed. You guys have this relationship for months, keeping it a secret from us, and, you know, Sara is my best friend, and I Just want her to be happy, and if you made her happy, well, I was happy, but now it seems that you didn't do that…" He came to a stop when Grissom stood up.

"Greg, I think you're veering from the subject at hand. I know that you and Sara are close, but there are some things that you don't know. Things about her life, her family… Yes, I admit that I was in denial about what's been happening. I was just so damn happy that she escaped from the hell that Natalie Davis put her through, I just wanted to celebrate having her with me. I didn't care that you guys knew that we were together, or what would happen with Ecklie… I hated that Sara had to move to swing, hated not seeing her every day, and I guess that's really why I didn't notice anything. Our schedules were different, we didn't see all that much of each other, and when we were able to see each other, well, I only saw what I wanted to see, and she made sure of that. God do I wish that I had seen something, understood more of what she was going through, but even if I had, I don't know if I could have stopped this from happening. Sara needs to work through some things, and as much as I would love for her to be here, she has to be where she is right now." Grissom sat down.

Greg was speechless; he'd never known Grissom to say so much at once about his feelings.

Grissom continued. "Now, I've been in touch with Sara and she wants to talk to you guys, I think she plans on calling you soon and I'll leave it to her to explain more about why she left. It's not my place to say anything." He finished and smiled at Greg. "If you want, you can stay mad at me, I know you won't allow it to interfere with work. I do hope you can see my side though, and know that I would never do anything to deliberately hurt Sara."

Greg cleared his throat, his mind racing. Finally, he smiled. "I guess I can see your point. I never really thought about it from your perspective. It makes sense that you would… concentrate on the good, and how that might lead to you missing the bad. Tell Sara… tell her that she can call me anytime."

Grissom nodded. "I will." Grissom coughed, changing subjects. "So, how's your case going?

Greg grinned. This was the Grissom he knew. "Great, we caught the guy. He killed her, panicked, and tried to make it look like our serial.

Grissom nodded. "I wish our case was going as well. Good job, Greg." He waved to the door. "Go on; wrap up what you need to. We may need your help later."

Greg nodded. "Okay, thanks for the talk. See you later."

Grissom watched Greg leave. "Well, Sara, you'd be proud of me," he whispered. He turned to the computer. "Now, what am I getting you for Christmas?"

TBC..


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** All rights reserved for CBS.

**A/n:**Due to the fact that we're getting down to the nitty gritty of both of my stories, I've decided to do only one update per week, so I can make sure that I don't skimp on a chapter because I'm rushing, because I know I have to get the next update soon. So, I'm updating Masquerade this week and Sara's Journey next week, and so on. This should make for longer chapters, and less stress on me. Thanks for reading and reviewing. I appreciate it very much.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

Grissom checked his watch as he walked into the lab door. Earlier than expected, he sighed as he headed to his office. He'd made a promise to Sara that he'd spend less time at the lab and more time at home, but he didn't seem to be starting the new year off any different than the old year. The simple truth was that without Sara there, home wasn't very appealing. Still, he resolved to make sure that in future he wouldn't come to the lab more than ten minutes early, unless called in.

He rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt. Hodges was leaning against the wall looking into the DNA lab. He cleared his throat and Hodges jumped.

"Oh, Gil, I didn't see you there. I- I was just… um, Happy New Year!" he said with a guilty smile.

Grissom cut to the chase. "Why are you hanging out in the hall?" he asked as he continued on to his office.

Hodges followed. "Oh, just trying to decide something. Conrad asked me to come in early and help out with swing, you know that new Trace tech they have is totally in over his head and Conrad wanted me to help him out and of course I couldn't say no."

"Of course you couldn't. I noticed that Wendy was here early also, did he call her in, too?" Grissom asked, his back turned to Hodges as he hung up his jacket.

Hodges shrugged. "I guess I did see her hanging around," he hedged, looking around. "So, how was your New Year's Eve? Did you go to any parties?"

Grissom turned to him and watched him silently for a moment. "No," he said with a small smile. "I just had a quiet night at home."

Hodges nodded. "Yeah, yeah, parties aren't for guys like us. We're above it." He tapped a file on the desk. "So, well, I'd better get back to work. See you around."

Grissom watched as he left the office and shook his head. Looking down he saw his mail waiting on him. Sighing, he sat down and began to go through it, throwing the junk in the trash. Two requests for him to lecture at conventions, one on entomology, and one on forensics. He put those to the side. A green envelope caught his attention because it had no return address and only had Gil Grissom written on the front. Frowning, he opened it.

'_Time waits for no one; I've had my fun, now it's time for you to see my masterpiece. You must pay for your transgressions, and the sluts must pay for their free ways. What is mine will be mine forever, and if you try to take what is mine, you will pay.'_

Grissom read this and felt a shiver run down his spine. In the last month the serial case had gone cold. With no leads, and no suspects, they were left with questioning the employees of the area hospitals and using the list that Catherine had made up, they had made good progress. Due to the sheer number of DNA samples that had been taken, every person they'd questioned so far had readily agreed to give a sample when asked, they'd had to send them out to be processed as Wendy couldn't handle them all on top of her regular work load. They were due to receive the results in the next couple of days.

Now, as Grissom stared down at the note, he felt a sense of anticipation. Finally they had something, and it looked like they might be about to get more. He hated the fact that they hadn't been able to catch this guy before another woman was tortured and killed, but he hoped that her death wouldn't be in vain. Not wanting to wait, he leaned down and opened his field kit. He took out a pair of gloves and slipped them on. He'd already touched the note, but he wanted to avoid further contamination. He took out his camera and snapped a couple of shots. The last note they'd received had been clean, and Grissom didn't really expect anything less from this one, but he had to process it nonetheless.

He examined every square inch of the note with a magnifying glass, and found nothing. They'd had the paper and ink of the other letters analyzed and had found that the ink had been different in each note, but of a common variety, and the paper could be found in any store. He didn't expect this note to be any different. It was a self sealing envelope with no distinguishing features. That is until he examined the inside of the envelope. He'd used a letter opener to slit the top of the envelope open, and as he examined the inside he noticed a hair sticking out from the sealed flap. Smiling, he carefully slid the envelope into a paper bindle and sealed it. He stood and headed to the DNA lab.

Wendy looked up as someone walked through the door. She'd half expected it to be Hodges and was slightly disappointed when she saw Grissom. Shaking herself, she smiled, hoping Grissom hadn't seen her momentary disconcertion. "Hey, Grissom, what've you got for me?"

"Top priority Wendy, put this ahead of everything. There's a hair stuck in the flap of this envelope. Process it and get back to me as soon as possible," Grissom instructed as he gave her the sealed bindle. He turned to leave, but turned back at the door. "Oh, if you need help I think Hodges is hanging about somewhere."

Wendy stood with her mouth open as he left. She shook her head and got to work on the envelope, muttering, "Yeah, I'm sure he would." Truth was that lately she hadn't seen much of Hodges and for some reason she didn't like that. She smiled when she thought of a couple of weeks ago when she'd been out on a blind date.

She'd been having a terrible time and then Hodges had walked up and she'd somehow found herself inviting him to join them at the table. He'd demurred, saying that he couldn't do that, but had sat for a few minutes while he'd waited on his table. Her date hadn't seemed pleased, but couldn't find a way to object, so he'd just sat there stewing as she and David had talked about a case they'd worked that day. When his table was ready he had bid them a good evening and she and her date had spent another uncomfortable thirty minutes. Finally, they'd had coffee and Wendy suggested that they leave. The check came and it was way less then she'd expected. She asked the waiter about it, and he'd said that the guy at table ten had paid for half of the bill. She looked up to find Hodges smiling at her, and he lifted his glass in acknowledgment. She smiled and nodded. Her date had been elated. He said that he figured that 'that guy' had paid for his portion of the meal, leaving Wendy to pay the still sizeable bill. She'd given him a tight smile and followed him out of the restaurant letting him know that the date was now over.

"Hey, Babe, if you want to get off the love train, that's okay with me. I can find someone more willing to ride the lube tube, and now I have the money to do it," he jeered.

Wendy had nearly gagged and hadn't been able to force herself to answer. She turned and walked away, calling a cab on her cell.

The next day she'd played it off with Hodges, not wanting him to know what a pig she'd been out with. She certainly wasn't going to go on anymore dates set up by that particular friend.

Now as she started carefully extracting the hair from the glue on the envelope, she couldn't help but wonder what a date with Hodges would be like. Sometimes he could be quite endearing, but then he could turn around and be a clueless clown. With a sigh she decided to concentrate on work. At least that was one thing that never disappointed her.

* * *

Catherine hurried down the hall, heading to Grissom's office. He'd called her to tell her about the new letter and Catherine was anxious to read it. She entered his office, not bothering to knock, and found him seated at his desk.

He silently handed her the letter, now sealed in a clear plastic bag.

After reading it she looked up. "Do you think he's set up another death scene, or just dumped her somewhere?"

Grissom shrugged. "Brass has people patrolling all of the local golf clubs, but that doesn't mean he couldn't slip into one of them. The truth is we don't have a single clue who this guy is, he could work at one of the golf courses, though that is unlikely, but it would give him inside knowledge of when he could do it. I just don't know, Catherine. Last time I felt like this about a case it didn't turn out so well."

Catherine tilted her head and gave a soft smile. "But that's not going to happen this time. Sara is safe and sound, and I'm sure not going to relax my guard. Look, who knows why this sicko has decided to make this personal with you, but I'll bet that it really doesn't mean anything personally; he probably just read about you and wants to play games. He doesn't just get off on killing; he gets off on the thought that he has control over the media and even the police. But that very desire, that need, is what will make him get sloppy, make mistakes."

Grissom nodded. "I know." He sat back in his chair and changed the subject. "So, how was your New Year?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Lindsey threw a New Years Eve party, does that answer your question? I was stuck chaperoning about thirty teenagers. Yeah, instead of getting kissed at midnight, I was making sure nothing more than kissing was going on between the partygoers. How was yours?"

"Nice and quiet," Grissom said with a small smile.

"Really, you mean to tell me you didn't go out and party?" Catherine laughed.

"Yeah, my partying days are over. Now it's just boring old TV with a cold beer and a snoring Hank next to me." A soft smile remained on his face.

Catherine looked at him speculatively. "Have you heard from Sara?"

Grissom shrugged. "Yeah, we've talked." He remembered talking to her the night before. Their day together at Christmas had been short, and he wanted more, but the sound of her voice over the phone each night wrapped around him like silk and he couldn't help the way his body reacted to her suggestive banter. His New Year's Eve had been good indeed, though he was technically alone.

Catherine was intrigued by the small smile on his face and the far away look in his eyes, but she felt it prudent not to mention it. "So, when are those DNA results due?"

"Tomorrow at the earliest and even then I don't know if we'll get any answers; if we'll find any DNA profiles that fit the ones we have from the soil. And if we do find a match, I'm not sure what it means for our case. The circumstances are just too bazaar, but at least it might give us another cog in the puzzle," Grissom said shaking his head.

"I guess that's all we can hope for, although…"Catherine broke off sadly.

"Although we may get another chance soon, in the form of a new victim," Grissom finished.

Catherine nodded.

* * *

The night passed slowly with few cases coming in and a lull in the ongoing ones. Greg walked into the breakroom and grabbed an apple from the basket on the table.

Nick looked up from where he was sitting reading a file and nodded at him. "Wrap your case?"

Greg nodded. "Just a B and E, nothing exciting, the perp didn't even try to disguise his face. We found him within an hour of the alarm going off. He confessed before anyone accused him of anything." He glanced at his watch. "Man, it's only half past three."

Nick grunted, "Tell me about it. At least you had something to do, I've had nothing to occupy my time but catching up on paperwork," he said nodding at the files in front of him. "Oh, hey, guess who called me yesterday."

Greg walked over to the drink machine and chose a Coke. "Hmm, let's see, was it Sara?" he asked with a laugh.

"Oh, you got a call, too?" Nick asked with mock hurt.

"I think she called everyone," Greg answered with a grin. He walked over and dropped into a chair opposite Nick.

Nick nodded. "Sure isn't the same around here without her, and what with Warrick being gone…" he trailed off.

"Yeah, I know. It's just weird. Have you heard from him?" Greg asked, propping his feet on the table.

Nick shook his head. "I think he's been laying low. He'll be back in a few days, I only hope he's worked through some of his issues."

Greg bit into his apple. "Yeah, we can only hope. We're dropping like flies, man, and I don't like it. Say, you're not hiding some bottled up emotions are you?"

Nick was quiet for a moment. "To tell you the truth, I'm feeling just fine. I did have a bit of a rough patch, getting buried alive does that to you, but after Sara… well, I realized that shit happens to everyone, and I came through it, and Sara came through it, shoot, even you came through it. I mean, Sara may have had to take some time to deal with some issues, but from what she told me, it was something to do with her family, and if she didn't take care of it now, it just wouldn't be taken care of." Nick grasped his hands on the table. "I think we'll all be okay. Sara will come back, some day, and we'll be the happy family we've always been."

"And if we're not?" Greg asked quietly.

"Then we'll deal with that when the time comes."

* * *

Tyler Gantt yawned as he opened the gates to the Desert Palace Mini Golf course. The sun was barely tipping over the horizon as he unlocked the door to the ticket booth. "I've got to find a job that doesn't start so early," he mumbled to himself.

He picked up a broom and started on his normal routine, sweeping the 'greens' on the course. There were eighteen holes, the easiest a simple straight shot from tee to hole, and as you went it got more difficult with sphinxes and pyramids and tombs. The final hole was a complex set up with a water hazard.

The morning air was cold with a chill breeze blowing over him. His hands were numb by the time he reached the seventeenth hole and he was praying for the sun to come up fully and warm the air. He trudged over to the beginning of the eighteenth hole and began to sweep the debris from the green. He reached the end and circled around the grand pyramid, hopping over the mini replica of the Nile River. He stopped mid hop and stared in confusion at something lying near the hole. He walked closer and was jolted when he heard a noise from over the fence. He looked up to see a car peeling away. He looked back down and before he knew what was happening, he'd lost his breakfast, turning his head just in time so that he vomited on the side away from the body lying on the green. When his stomach stopped heaving, he grappled in his pocket for his phone and dialed 911. As the phone rang he slowly looked back over to the body, a woman he now saw, for she was nude.

When the operator answered he stammered, "Yeah, I found a dead woman…"

**TBC…**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** All rights reserved for CBS.

**A/n:** I really wanted this chapter to be longer, but as a wise woman said, _'I don't believe in writing more for the sake of having length. Quality over quantity, right?' _So, it's not as long as I envisioned, but I think there is a lot of meat to it. I hope you enjoy it. :D:D Thanks Chelles!

* * *

**Chapter 18**

Grissom sighed and knelt beside the body.

Catherine looked up from where she was on the other side of the woman. "He was interrupted."

Grissom nodded, "Are we sure it's not another copycat?" he said as he looked down at the woman's face, blemish free and intact.

Catherine pointed towards the woman's chest. "The heart was removed and placed in her hand. The killer started to eviscerate her, but got no further than the initial incision." She looked up at Grissom. "It's our guy, all right, only this time he was interrupted." She nodded toward Brass who was talking to a young man in a bright red uniform. "Tyler Gantt, manager of Desert Palace mini golf. He may have gotten a look at the killer's car."

Grissom reached out a gloved hand and picked up a surgical glove lying beside the body. He squinted at the index finger. "Do you see this?"

Catherine leaned closer and looked at where he indicated. "Is that a hole?"

Grissom nodded silently and looked towards Tyler Gantt. "I think the killer got quite a shock when he heard Mr. Gantt arrive, and maybe he got sloppy."

* * *

Jim Brass grimaced as he looked at their witness, his stomach roiling. He knew he shouldn't have eaten that breakfast burrito out of the vending machine. "So, Mr. Gantt, tell us everything and start from the beginning."

Tyler looked at the detective and his mouth went dry. If this is how the guy looked when he questioned a witness, he sure wouldn't want to be a suspect. "Well, I started opening up as usual; I normally start by cleaning the course. Everything was normal until I reached the end…"

"There was nothing wrong with the lock on the gate?" Brass cut in.

"Uh, no, no it was locked as normal. Like I said, everything was like it always is." He nodded his head for emphasis.

"And you discovered the body when you reached the end of the course?" Greg asked from his position next to Brass.

"Yeah, say, I'm sorry that I yakked near the body. I-I couldn't help it. Worse thing I've ever found on the course before were some used condoms." Tyler dug his hands in his pockets. "That was gross, but this was way worse."

At the mention of yakking Brass's stomach lurched. He swallowed the taste of bile and continued with the questioning. "Did you ever find out who left the condoms?"

Tyler scrunched his eyebrows, not seeing what that had to do with anything. "Uh, no, I just threw them away, why?"

"Well, obviously there's a weak point in your security. Did you report the incident?" Brass asked.

Tyler blushed, he was sure the detective was about to arrest him for withholding information or something. He watched the cop shows, he knew that you could get into trouble for not telling the cops everything. "I sw-swear, I- I didn't think it was important, just a couple of kids out for a wild night. I figured they climbed the fence, we're not exactly high security around here."

"Okay, so, what happened after you saw the body?" Brass crossed his arms in a move he hoped looked authoritative, but was really to hold his angry stomach.

"Well, I yakked, you know that…"

"Yes, yes, we know that. What happened after that?" Brass cut him off before he described the aforementioned yakking.

Tyler shrugged. "I took out my phone and called you guys."

"Did you hear anything?" Greg asked, noticing that Brass wasn't looking his normal chipper self.

Tyler closed his eyes and thought back. "Yeah, yeah I heard a car door slam, and then a car peeling out. I looked up, but only saw a bit of the car as it squealed out of the lot."

Greg smiled. "Hey, man, that's good. Even a color could help us."

Tyler grinned, feeling better talking to the sandy haired man. He was certainly someone he could identify with. "Yeah, yeah I did see the color, man, it was red." He nodded.

"That's good. That can help us. Is there anything else you remember?" Greg pressed.

"Well, it looked weird, not like a regular car," he shrugged.

"Could you describe it?"

"I don't know man, it was really quick. I just know it looked weird." Tyler shook his head, sorry that he couldn't help more.

"You've been a big help." Greg assured him. "I'll tell you what, if you don't mind, maybe you could look at a few pictures, see if you can find a car that looks similar to the car you saw."

"Sure, sure, I can do that." Tyler nodded, grateful that he might still be able to help. He kept seeing the look in that woman's eyes. He'd never felt like he could make a difference, had figured he'd work in one dead end job after another. Now he felt the need to do more, and he decided then and there to do all he could to help find that poor woman's killer.

"Okay, for now why don't you go home? We'll give you a call when we're ready for you to look through those car books," Greg advised.

Tyler shook his head. "I can't do that. My boss is on his way and I have to wait to find out what he has to say before I take off."

Brass gave a dry laugh. "Well there won't be any work to do today. This place will be closed down for a couple days at least." His face had taken on a green cast.

"Hey, are you feeling all right, Man?" Tyler asked.

"Hey, kid, why don't you go worry about yourself? I think your boss just showed up." Brass nodded towards a man at the entrance who was waving his arms around.

"Oh, yeah, I'd better go talk to him." He nodded to them and took off.

Once he was gone Greg looked at Brass. "Hey, Jim, are you sure you're okay?"

"No, look, I'm going to find a bathroom somewhere away from the scene. You go look for where the killer might have gone over the fence. Maybe he left us a good bit of torn shirt, or something. Nick's searching the parking lot, maybe you should start at the closest place to where he's determined the car was parked."

Greg nodded, but Brass was gone before he could finish one bob of his head. Greg bit back a grin; it wouldn't do to laugh at a guy in that situation. It was inviting trouble.

* * *

Doc Robbins limped onto the mini-golf course and made his way towards the covered body at the end. "Sorry I'm late," he said as he stepped up next to Grissom. "I had a bit of trouble getting here." At Grissom's silent look he explained. "David and I felt that it might be best if I covered this one." He handed his bag to Grissom and braced himself with his crutch as he knelt down slowly.

Taking the bag from Grissom, he opened it and went about getting a liver temp. He sighed as he leaned back, looking at the temperature probe. "It's hard to be exact, if, as I believe, she's been bled, but she's been dead about twenty-four hours, long before these cuts were made."

Grissom nodded. "Yeah, we've learned something about our killer. He does the dissecting at the scene, not before. I suspected it after the last murder, but this proves it."

Doc sighed, "Well, if you don't need her anymore, we'll get her to my office, see what killed her." He gazed down at the woman. "At least she got to keep her face, her family and friends will be able to say goodbye properly."

Grissom nodded. "Yes, you can take her. We've gotten all we can from here. Check her wrists and ankles when you get there. I think there is bruising there, it's hard to tell, but she might have been tied up."

Doc scratched his chin. "That would be different." He nodded to the coroner attendants with the gurney and heaved himself up. "Well, I'll get the results to you as soon as possible. I just hope we can find something that can lead us to the killer. I don't want another one of his victims on my table."

* * *

Greg walked along the fence, looking for any sign of disturbance. "I'm not finding anything. You'd think that he'd tear something jumping over this fence, with the hurry he was in."

Nick looked up from where he knelt in the car park. "Maybe he's some kind of athlete, and was able to jump over easily." He continued to run his flashlight over the asphalt.

Greg straightened from where he had been bending, looking at a scuff in the rocks by the fence. "Someone might have jumped over here, I can't really tell though. The rocks are moved around, but that could have been done before and have nothing to do with this incident." As he stood, he looked at the fence. The top, lined with a pipe that would have offered a smooth grip to anyone climbing over. "You'd think they'd at least leave the top bare, with the sharp ends of the fencing, if not using barbed wire," he murmured, examining the chain links.

Nick barely hard him as he crept forward, sweeping his flashlight ahead of him. He'd hoped to find a clump of soil, or a suspicious oil stain, but so far, he'd found nothing. He squinted as his light swept over something. Moving forward quickly, he shouted, "I think I found something!"

Greg looked up and watched as Nick picked up something short and pointy. "What is it?" he called.

"It's an ink pen," Nick called back. He turned the pen over, reading the writing on the side. "Dublin Pharmaceuticals," he whispered. "That can't be a coincidence." He raised his voice and called, "It's a pen for a pharmaceutical company." He stood up, bagging it. "I think I might have found the case breaker."

Greg's smile faltered as his eye caught on something on the fence. He took out a swab and wiped it over the red smear. A couple of drips later and his smile had bloomed again, bigger than before. "I think I can trump that. I've got blood," he called.

Nick looked up from where he was continuing to search the area where the pen had been. "Well maybe this is our lucky day."

* * *

"Okay, guys, it's been two days. What info do we have on the Cameron scene?" Grissom asked as he looked around the layout table.

They'd identified the victim as Doreen Cameron. She was sales rep for Dublin Pharmaceuticals. She fit the profile of the other victims; brunette, brown eyes and single. Aside from her unfinished mutilation, there was one other difference between her and the other victims; she had a large family back in her home town, she lived in Las Angles, and they were now camped out in the lobby of the police station, really putting the pressure on to find the killer.

Nick cleared his throat, "We did get a bit of good news. The only hospital, locally, that Dublin Pharmaceuticals dealt with was Desert Palm, so that cuts down our search area considerably. It has to be someone connected with the hospital."

Catherine nodded. "And, considering that she was a pharmaceutical rep, it's fairly clear where our next stop is; Nick and I have another appointment with Mr. Bell tomorrow, and this time he's going to answer our questions more thoroughly."

Grissom nodded, "And how about that blood drop," he asked, turning to Greg and Wendy.

Wendy swallowed, "Um, here's the thing… remember those semen samples? The ones in the soil? Well, the blood matched to one of them, but, um, but we still don't have an ID."

"So our killer is one of those men," Grissom murmured. "But who did the other semen belong to?"

They gave a collective shrug. Greg spoke up, "Maybe it's a group of guys doing this. Taking turns, but making it look like one guy."

Grissom shook his head. "No, our killer doesn't want to share. I'm not a profiler, but, I think our guy likes to keep these women to himself, punishing them for… something. Keeping them alive, torturing them…"

"Well, I can confirm that," Doc spoke up. He opened the file in front of him. "Doreen Cameron was, held hostage for some time. She had been repeatedly raped with what could be a foreign object; I found no sign of lubricant, or spermicidal agent. I can tell you that she was brutalized, and some of it took place after death. Unlike her predecessors she had ligature marks on her wrists and ankles, and several bruises on her body, in various stages of healing. Her last days were not pleasant."

His words were followed by silence. Finally, Catherine cleared her throat and asked, "Was COD the same?"

"Same as the first two, asphyxiation, probably suffocated with a pillow." Doc closed his file.

Grissom rubbed his head, "Wendy, did you find out anything about that hair?"

Wendy shook her head. "It was a cat hair, so I sent it to Hodges. I don't know what he found out. He's off today, but I'm sure you can reach him at home."

Shaking his head, Grissom sighed, "No, we've got enough to look into right now. It can wait until he gets back." He was disappointed that it wasn't the killer's hair. Every time they thought they had something, it came up as nothing. He turned to Nick. "What about that oil you found?"

Aside from the pen, Nick had found a spot near it with drips of oil. "According to Hodges, and he assures me he's never wrong, it's the same type as the other sample; a mixture of two synthetic oils."

Grissom turned to Brass. "Has our witness identified the type of car yet?"

"No, not yet, but he's determined to find it. He's still got a few books to go through," he said with a shrug.

Grissom sighed. "Okay, Catherine, you and Nick get as much as you can from Mr. Bell. He has to at least have known the rep. Maybe she told him about her plans for while she was in town." He looked to Nick with a sigh. "Greg, take over the car angle. Get with Mr. Gantt and maybe if he can't find a match for that car he can give you a general description. A sketch would be better than nothing."

Catherine flipped a page in her file. "What about that glove you found?"

Grissom shook his head. "The only blood on the glove belonged to the vic. The cut in the latex was clean, leading me to believe that the killer double gloves. I'm not even sure that it was an accident that the glove was left behind. We didn't find any other medical implements, and I have to believe that the killer brings it with him when he drops off the body. So maybe the glove is misdirection."

Everyone remained silent, thinking. Finally, Greg spoke. "Well, whatever the reason, I believe that cut was accidental, there's no reason to fake it."

Grissom nodded. "I agree. Anyway, get out there and get busy. We've got a family waiting for answers."

* * *

Catherine met Nick at the elevators labeled 'D' at the very end of the hall. "Why does it feel like I spend half my time at hospitals?"

"Because in the last few months we've questioned dozens of hospital personal and we had to go to hospitals to find them?" he answered.

"And, because in our job, it's actually better if you need to visit the hospital, rather than the morgue."

They stepped onto the elevator and it took them swiftly to the correct floor.

"So, what is this guy like?" Nick asked as the doors opened.

"Let's just say I hope your shoes are clean," Catherine said with a smile.

With a confused smile Nick started across the lobby. By the time he reached the reception desk his face had cleared and he gave the receptionist a charming smile. "Good morning, Ma'am, we have an appointment with Mr. Bell."

Gina looked up and frowned. "Mr. Bell isn't here today, are you sure you have an appointment?" she asked, fairly scowling.

Catherine was frowning now. "I called him yesterday; he knew he had an appointment with us."

Gina looked down at her book and shook her head. Her voice was frosty as she said, "I'm sorry, it's not here and neither is he, I don't know what to tell you."

Nick and Catherine shared a look, Nick nodding at the look in his eyes. "I'll call the judge."

**TBC**…


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: All rights reserved for CBS

* * *

**Chapter 19**

_Tap, tap, tap… the pencil hit the desk over and over as the pencil's wielder stared after the two CSI's waiting on the elevator. Narrowed eyes watched as the blonde woman tucked a golden strand of hair behind her ear. _

_Her fellow CSI was a disappointment. Gil Grissom should have been the one to come, not that hillbilly Texan. Grissom deserved to pay for his sins. Why wasn't he here? Had he lost interest in the case?_

_A convulsive clutch of fingers snapped the pencil in half. 'How dare he treat me like this! He shouldn't relax because he'd hidden away the woman he loved, and thought there was no way that he could be gotten to. He wasn't free of worries. "You've caused my love pain and humiliation, and you must pay." _

_Dark eyes widened as the elevator doors opened and out stepped the delectable Dr. Lurie. He nodded towards the blonde CSI and smiled. _

_The watchers heart pounded as he started talking to blondie. 'Not again! How many of them were there? Why did he keep encouraging these women? Didn't he know that he deserved better than these… women?'_

Catherine sighed as Lurie walked out of the elevator, forcing a smile as he nodded to her. He may be innocent in this case, but Catherine still didn't trust him.

"Good morning, Ms. Willows. What brings you guys back here?" he asked, his eyes on Catherine.

"We came to meet Mr. Bell, but he's not here." Nick answered instead, not liking the way Lurie looked at Catherine.

Lurie turned to him. "What do you want with Bell, didn't you already speak to him?"

Catherine felt the hair on the back of her next stand up. She shook her head, feeling as though someone were staring daggers at her. She looked back toward reception but no one was looking at her. There were only four people there. The receptionist, Gina, who was on the phone, and three men who were sitting at desks or standing around, but no one was looking their way. She turned back to Lurie and answered him. "We have further questions for him. Have you seen him recently?"

He shook his head. "No. No I haven't, but he usually stays in his office and I only see him if he summons me. That only happens if he feels the supplies I order are too ambitious. He's very cost conscious."

Catherine nodded. "Well, if you see him let him know we're looking for him."

Lurie nodded, "I sure will." He turned to go, but turned around. "Have you guys gotten any closer to finding this killer? I heard there was another victim the other day."

Nick and Catherine shared a look. "Actually, maybe you could help us out. The latest victim was Doreen Cameron and she was a pharmaceutical rep. Have you ever met her?"

Lurie's face paled. "Are you sure? I mean could it be someone else?"

"We, uh, yeah, we're sure. The family has identified her," Nick assured him.

"But how do you know it was her if her face was…" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Catherine shook her head. "The killer was interrupted and didn't get that far. You seem upset, did you know her?"

Slowly, he nodded. "We met when I lived out in L.A. She, uh, recently became the company rep out here, and I, uh, I was thinking of asking her out. I guess it wasn't meant to be."

Nick squinted at him. "You seem to have a lot of bad luck where women are concerned. The women you're interested in keep ending up dead."

Lurie stared at him. "Look, you can question me all you want, but I haven't done anything to these women, but… but it's starting to look like someone wants it to look like me."

Catherine stared at him thoughtfully. "You could be right. In any case, we'll be in touch. We're questioning everyone who knew Ms. Cameron."

Lurie nodded. "You know my number; just give me a call when you're ready." With a look at both of them, he turned and headed to the receptionist.

The elevator door opened once again and after the occupants had exited, Catherine and Nick stepped in.

"Do you think he's telling the truth?" Nick asked.

Catherine shook her head. "I don't trust Lurie as far as I could throw him, but I don't think he killed these women, and I think he may be on to something."

Nick hit the lobby button and turned to her. "What's that?"

"I think these murders have something to do with him, I just wish I knew what."

* * *

Hodges whistled as he walked into the lab. He made it to the Trace lab unimpeded and set down his bag. He took out a Tupperware container and a paper bag. He turned and headed for the breakroom, but was intercepted by Mandy.

"Well, well, well, what did mom make for us today?" she asked, taking the container from him.

He gave an exasperated sigh and took it back from her. "She made lasagna, if you must know."

Mandy laughed. "Aw, did mommy make her wittle baby wunch?" She reached up and ruffled his hair. "C'mon, Hodges, do you really think any woman wants to compete with that?"

"Compete with what? A home cooked meal? And who said there was anyone I wanted to…er… cook for me?"

Mandy shook her head and, laughing, went back to her lab.

Hodges deposited his food in the break room fridge and headed back for his lab. When he got there he shrugged on his lab coat and logged onto his computer. A knock at the door made him look up.

"Good morning, David. Do you have those cat hair results?" Grissom asked as he walked into the room.

"I sure do," Hodges answered. He picked up a folder and handed it to Grissom. "It belonged to a long haired cat."

Grissom opened the file as he said dryly. "Is that all?"

Hodges smiled. "Don't I always go the extra mile?"

Grissom just looked at him.

"Anyway, the cat hair belonged to a Himalayan long hair," he said with a shrug.

"Is that it?" Grissom asked.

"What else do you want, a full pedigree? There's only so much we can do with one cat hair. Give me the whole cat and maybe I can tell you more."

Grissom nodded and turned to leave.

Hodges stopped him at the door. "Um, Gil, can I ask you something?"

Grissom looked back with a raised eyebrow.

Taking that as ascent, Hodges continued. "Do you think it's weird that I still live with my mother?"

Grissom shook his head, raised both eyebrows and smiled. "Thank you, Hodges. I needed a little amusement in my day." He turned and continued out the door.

Hodges frowned. "It's not that weird. Lot's of people do it." Still frowning, he went back to work.

* * *

Tyler Gantt turned yet another page and blinked his eyes as the pictures swam before them.

Greg sat beside him and watched as he rubbed his eyes. Greg's brain felt like mush. He was used to long hours, but those hours usually involved some kind of mental or physical task, whereas in this case he was sitting here, watching someone look over millions of car books. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but it seemed like millions.

Tyler opened his mouth on a huge yawn.

Greg watched and felt the urge to yawn himself. He couldn't hold out and his jaws cracked as they opened wide.

This remained a pattern for several minutes, one would yawn, and then the other. Finally, Greg broke.

"Okay, if we don't stop this we're going to break something. I'll go get us some coffee while you continue to search.

Tyler nodded and turned back to the books as Greg left.

Greg walked into the break room and headed straight for the coffee maker. This wasn't a time for the regular swill. He glanced around to see if anyone was hanging around, then quickly bent down and opened the lower cabinet. He moved aside a box of artificial sweetener, something that no one at the lab liked and therefore made the perfect hiding place, and took out his bag of Blue Hawaiian. He opened it and inhaled the heavenly coffee scent. "Oh, thank God I have you," he whispered.

"Watch it Greg, I'm pretty sure it's against some law to have intimate relations with a bag of coffee," Warrick said from the door.

Greg jerked around and gripped his coffee to his chest. "God, Warrick! Don't sneak up on a guy like that!"

Warrick shook his head as he swung a chair around to straddle it. "Sorry, man, I didn't mean to scare you." He looked at Greg with weary eyes. "Listen, do you think I could get some of that coffee? I promise to pay you back."

Greg looked at him intently and didn't have the heart to deny him. Warrick looked worn out. "Sure, and don't worry about paying me back. I needed a little diversion from car books anyway." He turned back to the coffee machine and began the process of brewing the sweet nectar. "So, what's going on with you?" he asked over his shoulder. "I mean I don't mean to pry, but you look like death warmed over."

Warrick was silent for so long that Greg didn't think he was going to answer, and Greg had time to complete the coffee making process before he spoke.

Greg turned as the coffee brewed, and watched him.

Finally, Warrick lifted his head. "Yeah, life hasn't been that great lately."

"Ex still giving you trouble?" Greg sat down opposite him.

Warrick sighed. "No more than usual. Actually, I'm still not quite over…"

"I FOUND IT!!" Tyler ran into the break room at break neck speed.

Greg stared at him in confusion, his mind still on what Warrick was about to say. "I-I'm sorry?"

"I found it." Tyler repeated and slapped the book he was holding on the table.

Greg looked down at the picture he was pointing at. "A 1975 Renault," he murmured. "That's not a car you see a lot of around here.

Warrick stood up. "Well, that helps us a lot. I'm going to run this over to Archie, maybe he remembers one from that video." He turned to go. "It was red, right?" he asked as he backed out of the door.

Tyler nodded and smiled as Warrick turned and left.

"Well, that's a start," Greg turned to Tyler. "Good job. You can go home and get some rest now."

Tyler turned to go. "If there's anything else you need, you know were to find me."

"Working at the dumb 'ol mini golf," he murmured, heading out the door.

Greg didn't like seeing someone look so miserable. Making a decision, he went after him. "Hey, Tyler, wait up a minute." Greg jogged to where Tyler had stopped.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Do you really want to do more than work at a series of menial jobs?" Greg asked sincerely.

Tyler nodded vehemently.

"Did you go to college?" Greg asked.

"I quit with one year to go. I just didn't know what I wanted to do, and my parents couldn't keep paying for it without knowing where it would end."

Greg nodded. "Do you think you'd like to work in law enforcement? From what I've seen of you, you seem to enjoy helping those in need, and that's the kind of person we need on the force."

"Oh, man, that would be great. I'd love to make a difference. I'm just sorry that a woman had to die for me to see that I could make more of my life," he said, shaking his head.

Greg patted him on the shoulder. "Hey, man, you can't change the past. Look forward to the future and maybe one day you'll be the one putting the bad guys behind bars. Just remember one thing. Don't take it personally, this job can throw a lot of crap at you, but you can't let it drag you down." Greg stared towards the door. "I know people who are struggling with that right now, and it's hard to watch."

He was silent for a moment, thinking of Sara, and remembering the look on Warrick's face.

"Anyway, leave me your number and I'll get back to you after I talk to some people," Greg said, dredging up a smile.

Tyler smiled and shook Greg's proffered hand. "You bet I will, and I hope that car info comes in handy. Can you let me know how it turns out?"

"I'm not really supposed to talk about an on going case, but if the identification of the car helps us I'll let you know, and to tell you the truth, it could be just the break we need."

Tyler left with a smile on his face, and Greg turned back to his coffee feeling better about the situation.

* * *

"Hey, Jim. Thanks for meeting us here," Catherine said, getting out of the Denali.

"No problem, I'm really interested in finding out more about this Mr. Bell."

Nick joined them as they walked towards the house.

The front yard was small, xeriscaped, but with few embellishments.

Brass stepped up to the front door and knocked twice. "Mr. Bell, Gary Bell!" His call was met by silence. Brass turned to look in the driveway. "His car is here, I checked with the DMV and he's only on record as having one car, a white Prius. Certainly nothing like the car that Warrick says the kid picked out as the car he saw pealing away from the last crimescene."

Catherine, surprised, turned to him. "They got an ID on the car?"

"Yeah, a 1975 Renault painted a bright red." Brass continued to knock.

"That would be a distinct car, maybe we caught a break." Nick said, walking over to peer into the front widow.

"Mr. Bell!" Brass called again. "This is the police and it's in your best interest to come to the door."

"Uh, Brass, I don't think he can do that." Nick said as he gestured toward the window.

Catherine and Brass inched closer to the window and looked in.

Catherine sighed at what she saw. "Mr. Bell would not be happy with that," she muttered.

Brass reached for his radio, "I don't think Bell's happiness was taken into consideration."

They looked in on the body lying in a pile of garbage that had been scattered around the room. No, Mr. Bell would not be happy with such a dirty death.

**TBC…**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** All rights reserved for CBS.

**A/n:** I hope you enjoy this chapter. :D:D

* * *

**Chapter 20**

Catherine knelt down next to the body of Mr. Bell and focused on his face with her camera. Clicking a shot, she pulled back and frowned. Even in death his expression was prissy, like heaven didn't meet his hygiene requirements.

David Phillips gingerly stepped around the garbage scattered around the body and knelt down opposite Catherine. He scanned the body, looking for any obvious signs of COD. "I don't see anything," he murmured. He stuck the digital thermometer into the liver and watched the digits climb. "Body temp is Ninety-two degrees; I'd put TOD at four to eight hours. Doc will narrow that down." He looked up and gestured for the attendants to take the body. "See you later, Catherine."

Catherine nodded and turned her attention to the garbage around the body. She clicked a few pictures and leaned down to pick up a piece of newspaper. It was coated in coffee grounds and egg shells. She sighed and began the process of putting all the garbage in large evidence bags.

She was surprised to find that the area under the body was clean of trash. She looked up and found Nick kneeling a few feet away. "Hey, Nick, come here for a minute."

Nick stood and walked the few feet to Catherine. "Yeah?"

"What does this look like to you?" she asked.

"Hmm, well, I'd say he was dead before the place was, uh, trashed." He gave an apologetic smile. "No pun intended."

Ignoring the ill humor, Catherine nodded. "Yeah, but it doesn't look like someone was searching for something. It's more like a deliberate act of vengeance. Bell was a fastidious man, OCD even, and you can tell that this place looked exactly like his office, decorated in all white, and kept meticulously clean, and from the amount of trash that's spread around; I don't think it all came from one residence." She stood and looked around the house. "Either Mr. Bell was hording trash, or the killer brought some in from outside." She picked up an envelope out of the pile. "This is addressed to next door." She walked to the window and looked out. "When you process it, see if you can figure out how many of the neighbors had their garbage pilfered."

* * *

Greg rubbed his eyes as he sat at his computer. He glanced at his watch, realizing he'd been up for the last thirty-six hours. No wonder the screen was blurring before his eyes. And after all this time, he was still left at a dead end.

A knock at the door made him look up.

"Did you get anything on that car yet Greg?" Grissom asked as he walked into the room.

"Actually, yeah, I did. There was only one nineteen seventy-five Renault registered in the state of Nevada in the last twenty years. Unfortunately, the owner, a Daisy Collins, died three years ago, and, as far as I can find, she had no family, so where the car is now is anyone's guess. The last few years of her life she lived out at the Golden Hills retirement home. I'm going to go check that out as soon as I get some sleep."

Grissom smiled at the mention of the retirement home, remembering when he and Sara had investigated a missing person out there last year. "Okay, hey, do me a favor; say hi to Gladys for me while you're out there. She should remember me."

Greg nodded, bemused by the smile on Grissom's face. Surely the old boy hadn't been involved with someone at a retirement home. No way would Grissom go to a golden granny when he had Sara Sidle at his side. "I'll do that," he haltingly managed.

Grissom glanced at his watch. "Make sure you get some sleep before you go. You'll need to be on your toes. I think I'll go home too. Catherine and Nick are out at that homicide and we'll probably have to pull a double tomorrow." He turned to leave. "See you in the morning, Greg."

* * *

Nick walked into the lab to find it quiet. It seemed that everyone had gone home for the day and he wished he could join them, but he knew that it would be a few more hours yet before he could even think about it. He dropped off the first load of evidence bags in the evidence room, then jogged back out to the Denali to bring in the next load.

It took five trips, but finally he had unloaded the truck and had started logging in the evidence, the second step in the evidence processing procedure, the first being collecting it.

He sighed as he opened the second bag and began logging in each individual piece of trash. It was a long and arduous process, but would be critical in determining where all the garbage came from.

After six long hours he finally logged in the last item from the last bag. He looked around at the vast array of garbage on the layout table. Ten banana peels, and twenty apple cores. One hundred and five empty cigarette packs, divided by brand. Twenty-two Marlboro packs, forty Basic packs, twenty-three Kool packs, eighteen Salem packs, and one pack of Virginia Slims. Over two hundred and fifty canned vegetable tins which he'd sorted by vegetable and brand, fifty eight used condoms and over three hundred pieced of mail, sorted by address.

Also five pounds of coffee grounds, which there was no way to determine the brand of, unless Hodges could do some chemical analysis on them, also a few dozen broken egg shells and various empty milk cartons. Surprisingly there were only about twenty soft drink cans, so either the neighborhood was really into recycling, or not big fans of soda. Nick thought it was the former, though they had a lot to learn about what mail to throw away as several of the trashed envelopes were credit card applications and even a couple of bank statements. There were also about two weeks worth of newspapers, so maybe they weren't as into recycling as he'd first thought. Other typical garbage made up the rest of the list.

Nick took a deep breath and sank down in a chair, snapping off his gloves. He looked up at the clock and shook his head; he'd officially been up for two days straight.

"I suggest it was Oscar the Grouch, in the trash can, with the banana peel." Hodges grinned as he leaned against the door.

"Hodges, don't start," Nick said with a frown. "I'm not in the mood."

Hodges shrugged. "I just came to see if you needed me to do anything, but I can leave again if you want me to." He turned to leave.

"Wait," Nick called. "I could use some help."

"Well, what can Trace do for you today?" Hodges said, walking toward the table.

Nick picked up the bindles with the used condoms in them. "Could you take these to Wendy? It might be a long shot, but maybe one of them belongs to the vic, and as we know, if the guy's DNA is on the inside…"

"The woman's is on the outside," Hodges finished.

"Right, and maybe if he was seeing someone she can tell us if he had been stressed about something lately."

Hodges left the room and Nick sighed as he looked down at the mail. "And I have to go check out the fifteen different addresses that this mail came from. At least they're all on the same street."

"Don't worry about it, man. You go home and get some sleep; I'll take care of that." Warrick said as he walked into the room.

"Hey, are you sure…" Nick began, but Warrick cut him off.

"Don't make me reconsider," he said with a cocked eyebrow.

"Okay, okay, you don't have to tell me twice." Nick started for the door. "Oh," he said as he reached it, "did Archie find that car in the video?"

"Eh, I caught him as he was leaving last night, it's his first priority this morning." Warrick answered.

Nick nodded and decided to get while the getting was good. "See ya later."

"Yeah, yeah," Warrick said watching him leave. He looked at the envelopes and began to copy down the addresses.

* * *

Catherine had been able to go home and get some sleep before Nick, and was now well rested and making her way to the morgue for Mr. Bell's autopsy. "Hello, Doc, tell me something I don't know," Catherine said as she walked in the room.

"When I was in the fourth grade I dropped out of karate because a kid half my size made me cry," Doc promptly answered.

"Nope, sorry, Grissom already told me that." She smiled at him.

"Then how 'bout this? When I was fifteen I got caught with Mary Jo Winkler behind her garage with my pants down around my ankles and her mouth somewhere that made her mother faint."

"Why, Doc, you dirty devil." Catherine grinned.

"Of course this was before I lost the legs, that girl made my knees weak." Doc's face reddened and he cleared his throat.

Catherine laughed. "I'm sure she did. Okay, let me start over. Can you tell me about Mr. Bell here?"

"Ah, that I can do," he said pulling back the sheet. "I had a good idea about how he died before I opened him up." He gestured to the eyes. "Petechial hemorrhaging," he gestured to the chest cavity. "Confirmed once I opened him up, he was suffocated."

"With what? Catherine asked leaning over to look into the body.

Doc shrugged. "I didn't find any fibers in the nostrils or the lungs, and there is no bruising. Well, I should say there was no bruising on his face." He pointed down to the vics midsection. "Both his penis and scrotum are bruised."

Catherine picked up his hand and checked the fingers. "They're clean," she said in confusion. "And there's no bruising on his wrists." She turned to look at the man's face. "How could someone do this to him and not have him put up a fight?"

"That's a good question; maybe we can get an answer when TOX comes back." Doc pulled the sheet back up. "Until then, I've done all I can do."

* * *

Greg jogged up the front steps of the retirement home, feeling better after a few hours sleep. He was looking forward to getting this visit over with so he could get back to doing something constructive.

He wasn't ageist, but he didn't know if the older people in this nursing home, and really that was what it was, even if they named it a retirement home, would be able to help with a murder investigation.

Whistling, he opened the front door. He found himself impressed with the layout of the room. He'd looked around the richly appointed room and grinned. He was sold; this is where he wanted to live when he 'retired'. He walked up to the information desk and rang the bell.

"Can I help you?" asked a smartly dressed older woman.

Greg would place her in her sixties, but very well preserved. "Yes, Ma'am, I'm trying to find out if there is anything you can tell me about a woman who used to live here."

"Well, honey, I've lived here for the last ten years, so I should be able to help you," she said, leaning her dimpled elbows on the counter.

Greg blinked. "Really? I wouldn't think that such a young person would live in a retirement home."

The woman giggled, disconcerting Greg.

"How old do you think I am, sweetie?" she asked with a smile.

Greg shrugged. "Uh, sixty… five?"

This time her laugh echoed through the large room. "Honey, you just made my day." She extended her hand and took his in a hearty shake. "I'm Mabel, and I'm eighty-three years young." She pulled back and looked at him. "And now that you've got me all buttered up, what do you want to know?"

Greg was struck speechless for a moment, unable to believe that this woman was in her eighties. He pulled himself together and forced himself to think of his questions. "Yes, do you remember a woman named Daisy Collins?"

"Oh, yes. Daisy passed just three years ago. She was a bit of a dour woman, no matter what her name implied. We always thought she should have been named Rose, since she was so thorny. Never happy, that one, something to complain about everyday. I blame it on her family. She had a son, but he never came to visit, and then he was killed in a motorcycle accident, and then there wasn't even the chance of a visitor. We tried to include her in our little outings, but she'd have none of it."

Greg nodded. "Her car, a red nineteen-seventy-five Renault, do you know what happened to that?"

"I expect her son's wife got it. It certainly disappeared after Daisy's funeral, which the ungrateful witch only attended to get at the will."

"This woman, Daisy's daughter-in-law, do you know her name?" Greg fiddled around in his pocket for a pen.

Mabel shook her head. "I barely remember her, don't think I ever learned her name. She didn't live around here, I think she lived in L.A. "

"Do you think anyone else around here might know it?" Greg glanced around the room.

"Don't know, you could ask around. I know some of the ladies wouldn't mind a visit from a handsome young man like you." She smiled at him.

Despite himself, Greg felt his cheeks grow warm and knew they'd darkened to a deep pink hue. "Uh-hem, well, if you could ask the ladies to come meet me out here," he looked around the room, noting a secluded couch tucked between two green frond plants. "Over there at that couch? I think things will go much faster if I meet them one on one, easier for me to keep track of what's being said that way."

Mabel nodded. "Will do."

Greg turned to leave, but turned back. "Say, Mabel, you haven't happened to, um, lived in Vegas all your life?"

"My entire adult life, why?"

Greg felt himself blush again. "Well, see, I'm writing this book about old Vegas, and I thought maybe you could give me some input."

Mabel smiled broadly. "Honey, the things I could tell you could fill two books. I'd be glad to tell you anything you want to know."

Greg smiled. "Thank you, I'll call you later this week so we can get together to discuss it."

"Well, don't wait too long, sugar. You never know how long I'll be around."

"Oh, Mabel, I'm sure you have quite a few years left yet." Greg smiled at her and turned to head to the couch.

Now it was Mabel's turn to blush and she called, "I'll send the first lady right over. I'm sure you'll have no trouble getting answers out of these old bitties."

Greg smiled, sure she was right, and kicking himself mentally for ever thinking any different.

* * *

"TOX came back and he had traces of Methohexital in his system, and he was suffocated the same as some of the women. I'd say we're looking for the same killer." Catherine dropped the file on Grissom's desk and lowered herself into a chair.

"But why kill Bell?" Grissom asked, opening the file.

"Maybe he stumbled onto something. He would have had contact with Doreen Cameron, with her being the pharmaceutical rep. Maybe he saw something and the killer silenced him." Catherine glanced down at the desk and noticed a large manila envelope. "What's that?" she asked, poking the envelope.

Grissom looked up absentmindedly. "Um, oh, it's the DNA results for the male hospital personal we questioned and who allowed us to take samples. It came right after Doreen Cameron's body was found, and I guess it fell to the back burner."

Catherine picked it up and used a nail to slit it open. "Well, maybe we'll get lucky." She pulled out a sheaf of paper and began reading the list. "God, I forgot how many samples we took."

Grissom smiled and looked back down at the file. "Anything interesting?"

"No, not… Hey, wait a minute." She sat up straighter and studied the paper more earnestly. "I don't believe it!"

"What don't you believe?" Grissom asked, intrigued.

Catherine looked up. "Bell was a match to one of the samples." She quickly flipped through the rest of the names. "The only match, but an important one."

"Do you think he was the killer's partner? We've seen it before; two men, working in tandem, one man using the other as his sexual surrogate." Grissom thought back to the blue-paint killer case and its unsatisfactory end.

"I don't know, but if it is, looks like one of them decided it was time to go solo." Catherine mused.

"Get the team together; I want to know where we are exactly and what we know." Grissom stood and headed for the door and some answers.

* * *

Warrick walked into the layout room to find everyone else already there. "Looks like the party started without me," he grinned, making a place for himself between Catherine and Greg.

Grissom gave him a silencing glance and then turned to Nick. "So, what did you find out?"

Nick shrugged. "Well, you have the list of the garbage, that's about all I got to before I had to take off and get some sleep. Warrick took over from there."

Grissom cocked an eyebrow and turned to Warrick. "What did YOU find out?"

"I canvassed the neighborhood, learned way too much about suburban life, and that no one saw anything odd at Bell's house. No one saw anyone new there, or saw anyone steal their garbage." He opened his notebook. "I did find out one interesting fact. On a hunch, I took the list of cigarette packs that were found and all were accounted for by the neighbors, except for the single empty pack of Virginia Slims. What it means, I don't know, maybe someone walked by and threw an empty pack in one of the cans, or maybe they belong to our killer. If they do, though, they're not the brand a man usually smokes."

"Maybe they belonged to Mr. Bell," Nick suggested, looking around the room. "Do we know if he smoked?"

Catherine shrugged and turned to Grissom. "Did you see anything that indicated that he smoked?"

Grissom thought back to his single visit to Bell's office. "I don't remember seeing anything, lighter or ashtray, on his desk, but I don't think the hospital allows smoking inside the building, and Bell didn't seem the type to go against the rules. But do we really know him?" he asked, indicating the DNA result page. "His semen places him at, or near at least one of the dump sites." He glanced up at Greg. "Did you get anything on the car?"

Greg shook his head. "None of the ladies out at Golden Hills knew the name of her daughter-in-law. I was just about to rundown her son's death certificate, see if I could find out her name."

"Good, let's get that information as soon as possible." Grissom turned to Catherine. "Get back out to Bell's office. Search it and see if you can find any indication that he smoked." Grissom rubbed the back of his neck. "Let's keep digging. The Cameron case is already going cold, and if we let this one do the same thing we might have to wait for a new body to get more evidence. I really don't want another victim on my conscious."

Everyone nodded gravely and left to start on their assigned tasks, aware of the time crunch they were in.

After they'd left, Grissom looked around the room and sighed, having his doubts that they would find anything; the killer was just too smart, maybe too smart for him.

* * *

Grissom was right, the killer was smart, but a mistake had been made, a mistake that would be found, but would it be too late?

**TBC…**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** All rights reserved for CBS.

**A/n:** So, so sorry that this is so late. Life and work really put me through a ringer and I'm just so glad to finally get this, the final chapter, up. Thanks for everyone's patience and for all the wonderful reviews. And a special thanks to Aussieforgood and Chelles for all their patience and advice. :D:D

* * *

**Chapter 21**

Slowly swimming up from sleep, Gil Grissom groaned. He'd had the most wonderful dream and he wasn't ready to lose it. He tossed his arm over his eyes, trying to shield himself from further consciousness. It didn't work and he turned on his side, determined to drift back into sleep and get back to his dream. Again, it didn't work. With a sigh he sat up. He swung his legs over the bed, muttering. "Why can't a man just sleep and dream, why must he awaken to cruel reality?"

"So you're calling me cruel now are you? That's not what you said earlier. I believe words like sexy, gorgeous, and magnificent were mentioned."

The silky voice came from behind Grissom, and for a second he was afraid to turn around, afraid his mind was playing tricks on him.

Inhaling a fortifying breath, he turned around and looked into the deep brown eyes of Sara Sidle.

She smiled. "Good morning."

Grissom laughed. It started deep in his belly and expounded forth until he was rolling around on the bed.

Sara sat in shocked silence. This wasn't exactly the reaction she'd expected on waking up beside Grissom. A little more loving had been top of the list, followed by a nice dinner. Finally, she interrupted. "Mind telling me what's so funny?"

Grissom's laughter trailed off and he looked at her with a smile. "I thought you were a dream."

Sara chuckled and crawled over to where he lay at the end of the bed. She straddled him and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Let me show you how real I am."

* * *

An hour later, Sara sat at the kitchen table while Grissom hurried around the kitchen making breakfast. It was everything she had missed. "So, why don't you fill me in on everything that's been happening, did you solve that case you were working?"

Grissom stilled in the process of flipping an omelet. He glanced over his shoulder at her, only now feeling a tickle of fear. He slowly shook his head. "No, we're having no luck with that."

It was a truth that Grissom hated admitting. It had been two months since Bell's death and all avenues of evidence had led nowhere. Grissom didn't want the ugliness of the case intruding on his time with Sara, so he shrugged, turned with a smile, and flipped the omelet onto a plate. "Let's not talk about that right now. Can't you let me bask in the afterglow of lovemaking and just enjoy being in your company?" he asked with a teasing grin.

Sara studied him for a moment. She'd seen that blip of fear in his eyes and she wanted to explore what was behind it, but maybe now wasn't the time. "Well, why don't you come over here and bask while I eat?" she said with a laugh.

Grissom grinned and sat the plate down in front of her. "Your wish is my command."

* * *

Judy Tremont pulled into an empty space in the crime lab garage and shifted into park. She took a look in her rearview and side mirrors before switching the car off. She pulled down the visor and took a fortifying look at the picture of her dream car, the car she hoped to get very soon. It was a hybrid car in her favorite color, burnt sienna. She sighed as she looked at it and reached up a finger to trace the lines of the car. "One of these days, you're going to be mine." She smiled at her reflection in the mirror beside the picture, and brushed a wisp of her newly shorn, straightened and colored hair out of her eyes. She'd been hesitant about the color when the stylist had suggested it, having been blonde since high school, but she had to admit that the caramel colored locks showed her eyes and skin off to their best advantage, and the reaction around the lab had been very positive. "Life awaits," she whispered her new mantra.

With one more check in her mirrors, she opened the car door and slid out. She'd been nervous of garages ever since Sara had been taken from one, and in fact had only recently been talked into parking in the office garage again. Holding her purse close to her she started down the concrete aisle. Hearing a noise behind her, she looked back and her heart sped up as she saw a man leaning against a car about ten spots down, talking on his phone.

He looked her way and she quickly looked away and hurried faster towards the elevators. She looked back and stopped. The man was gone. She looked around the garage, but couldn't see him anywhere. She sighed with relief, and that's when she felt a hand clamp over her mouth and her world went dark.

* * *

Nick flipped through the papers in front of him, checking that every page had been signed and that nothing was missing. Satisfied that the file was complete he dropped it into his outbox and stood with a stretch. He was glad to have this case closed. A young boy had been killed by his stepfather and Nick was grateful that it had been open and shut, with the man admitting to the murder and turning himself in.

A glance at the clock made him start with surprise to see that it was nearly one in the morning. He grabbed another file waiting on his desk and hurried down the hall for the weekly meeting about another case, this one not so easily solved.

Things had gone completely cold on the 'Back Nine Killer' and everyone was feeling the heat over it. Nick had stopped opening emails from the Undersheriff and had taken to avoiding Ecklie even more astringently than usual.

The entire lab was feeling the pressure and in return the tempers were short. It came as no surprise when the lab techs squabbled in the hallways or when sniping between two investigators turned into a full out argument or someone just lost it for all to see… like now.

Nick stopped short on seeing Warrick kick the wall and then punch it for good measure.

"Hey! Hey, man, what wrong?" Nick asked as he hurried up to him.

"It's this case," Warrick growled.

"Yeah, man, I know what you mean. It's been four months, well, four months for us, two years over all, and we have nothing. Believe me; I'm feeling the pressure too…"

Warrick shook his head. "No, not that one, though that one isn't exactly shining a ray of sunshine into my life. I'm talking about this other case I'm working."

Nick was confused for a moment, but then it dropped. "Oh, yeah, that stripper that was killed. I guess it's bringing back some bad memories, huh?"

Warrick rubbed his brow with his hand. "Yeah, even the way she was killed is similar; her throat was slit." He shook his head and sighed. "Don't worry about it, man. I'll get through it."

Nick nodded. "So, you ready for the weekly roundup?"

Warrick squinted at him for a moment, confused, but then shook his head. "Ah, I totally forgot. Well, at least it should go quickly, what with nothing happening."

Nick shrugged. "Hey, maybe one of us will grow a brain cell and make a connection that will break the case, that's why we have these meetings, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and maybe at that same time we can use that brain cell to solve global warming, and keep the moneyed folk happy at the same time," Warrick scoffed.

Nick laughed. "One problem at a time, man," he said heading toward the layout room. "I'd be happy to just find this killer."

"So would we, boys," Catherine said as they walked into the layout room.

Greg got up from his chair in the corner. "'Bout time you guys got here. Let's get this over with; I have a case to wrap up."

Grissom looked at him over his glasses. "We all do, Greg, and that includes this one."

Greg nodded, chastened. "So, do we, um, have anything, uh, new…"

"Not as far as I can tell," Nick said slapping his file down on the table.

"Catherine, is there anything new with the Bell case?" Grissom liked to think of the Bell murder separate from the other murders. Though he believed it was done by the same person, it was different enough to warrant its own case designation.

Catherine shook her head. "No one has come forward with any information and the only possible lead we had went nowhere." Bell's secretary had told them that Bell did smoke and his preferred brand was Virginia Slims, and on searching his desk, Catherine had found a half used pack. They had found out that he allowed himself one cigarette per day, which is why Doc hadn't immediately noticed it. "The only thing that makes no sense is that he only smoked at work, at the same time every day. He'd eat lunch and then smoke a cigarette. So, if that is the case, then why did we find the cigarette in his home?"

"And none of the garbage that surrounded him belonged to him. His trash cans were still full, and they were the neatest trash cans I'd ever seen," Warrick added.

Grissom turned to Greg. "Any news on the car?"

Greg shook his head. "As far as I can find out, Mark Collins, Daisy's son, was never married, at least not legally, and whoever the woman was that claimed to be his wife has disappeared. I did find out that she had worked at a hospital in L.A., but she left there two years ago, after only working there for about a year, and no one has heard from her since."

Grissom took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "So, nothing new then?" he said with a sigh.

"Man, Grissom, I feel like there's something, right there, staring us in the face, and we just can't see it." Nick slapped the light table with his palms.

"All we can do is keep looking…"

Grissom was interrupted by a shout down the hall.

"I need to see someone about a kidnapping!" the voice rolled down the hall like thunder.

Confused looks all around, they hurried from the room and toward the shouting. Hodges stood with a man at reception and was trying to get him to calm down.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you have to make police reports at the police station, this is the crime lab." He stood with his hands on his hips, his lab coat splayed open.

The man shook his head. "I know that, you idiot, but as I just saw it happen and it happened in YOUR garage, I figured I should come here first!"

Grissom stepped forward. "I'll handle this, David," he said with a pat on Hodges' shoulder.

Hodges looked at Grissom and nodded. "Okay, Gil, I'll just get back to work."

Grissom nodded absently and turned to the man. "Now, what is this about a kidnapping?"

The man took a deep breath. "I was in the garage, I had dropped off a friend who works downstairs, anyway, I got a call and was standing at my car when I saw this woman get out of her car and head for the elevators. Well, I didn't think much of it at first, in fact I was frustrated because my call got cut off and I accidentally dropped the phone and I bent to pick it up. Anyway, when I stood back up I saw the woman being dragged back into her car, or the car she had gotten out of anyway, well, I didn't know what to do, because I wasn't sure what was going on at first. I mean it's not something you see everyday, is it? So, I watched and she was shoved in the back seat, she looked limp, and the person who shoved her got into the front seat and drove out." He ran a hand through his hair. "Who would've thought such a little woman could do all that?"

Grissom shook his head, confused. "What did she do, I thought you said she was unconscious?"

"No, not the kidnapped woman, the woman who kidnapped her!"

* * *

Sara flicked through channels on the TV, surfing aimlessly. She had tried to sleep, but she couldn't, she'd slept too much during the day. She glanced at the clock, disappointed to see that it was only one thirty in the morning. It seemed like much more time had passed since Grissom had left.

Clicking off the TV she threw the remote on the bed and headed for the kitchen. Maybe a little snack would help her settle down.

She opened the refrigerator and stared inside, shaking her head, once again taken aback at Grissom's lack of food, and what he did have wasn't exactly nutritional. She noticed things she hadn't this morning in her haze of great sex and having his arms wrapped around her again.

She opened the freezer and shook her head. It was stocked with ice cream and frozen dinners. "Well, we're going to have to fix that," she murmured to herself. "But, for now, might as well start getting rid of that ice cream." She smiled as she took out a pint of Ben and Jerry's 'Half Baked' ice cream. "Oh yeah, heart attack in a small carton." She opened it and took out a spoon. "Luckily, I'm really healthy and can afford the occasional influx of cream and sugar." She smiled around her first bite of chewy brownie and chocolate ice cream.

Humming to herself, she headed back to the bedroom, but was stopped by a noise at the door. Her heart skipped; maybe Grissom had come home for a little 'lunch'.

She hurried toward the door, waiting for him to open the door and find her there.

Nothing happened.

She stepped forward and looked through the peep hole. All she saw was the back of a woman as she disappeared down the stairs. Confused, she was about to open the door when she noticed the envelope that had been slipped under it. Bending down she picked it up.

Written on the outside of the envelope was Grissom's name, and nothing else. Frowning, she headed for the phone.

* * *

Judy opened her eyes with a start, but her vision was obscured. There was something covering her eyes. Her heart pounded, and she thought frantically. Where was she? She didn't know how she'd gotten here, she couldn't remember…

'The last thing I remember,' she thought, 'I was parking my car. And- and what happened then?'

She was verging on panic, her mind spinning. 'Hold on, take a deep breath and find out as much about your surroundings as you can.' She breathed in deeply, scenting the air. There was an odd scent, but she couldn't place it. 'So, move on to something else.'

She couldn't feel her hands, and she started to panic again. She wiggled around, and finally figured out that her hands were tied behind her. They must have gone to sleep. She tried to wiggle her fingers, but without feeling she couldn't tell what was under them.

Her skirt had ridden up and her legs were bare to the knee and she could feel metal against her legs. It was cold, very cold, though she wasn't sure if that was due to being scared, or the actual temperature.

She couldn't hear anything but the sound of her heart beating, and her own harsh breathing. She made herself calm down and listen. She couldn't hear anything.

Her feet were bound, but she could move them a little. She lifted her legs up as high as they would go, clearing her mind of thoughts of someone watching her. She didn't feel anyone else in the room, but she wasn't in the position to be sure of that.

She didn't feel enclosed, and her legs didn't encounter any obstacles, so she took a deep breath and rocked her legs down and tried to get herself into a seated position.

It took a few tries, but finally she was sitting. Still, no noise came from around her. Surely if someone were there she'd hear breathing.

She tried to move her hands again, and this time she felt them start to tingle. She kept wiggling her fingers, and slowly and painfully, her hands regained feeling.

Now, to figure out how to get the blindfold off, she needed to be able to see if she had any hope of escape. She began to rub her head against her shoulder, hoping to push the blindfold up, or down. After several minutes she finally had one eye un-obscured. She blinked, looking around the room as best she could.

She frowned. The room was dark, so she wasn't much better off, but she could make out a few things. There was light coming from under a door on the wall across from where she sat.

She needed to free her hands, and she wasn't sure of how she could do that. She felt now that she was bound by tape, so maybe she could find something to cut the tape.

She didn't know if she would be able to escape, but there was one thing she did know; she had to try. If Sara could do it, so could she.

* * *

"Look, I only caught a glimpse of her, but she looked blond, and short," Charles Dudley protested watching Captain Brass as he paced in front of him.

"Well, why didn't you shout out or do something else to stop her?" Brass stopped and stared at the man at the table.

Charles shrugged. "Like I told him," he pointed to Grissom, 'I was confused. One minute I was talking to my girlfriend, and then I dropped the phone, and then I saw this… thing. My brain just didn't process it until after the car had driven off."

Brass looked up as the door opened.

Greg looked in and nodded for Brass and Grissom to meet him outside the door.

Outside, Brass crossed his arms. "What do you have?"

Greg swallowed. "We got an ID on the car."

Grissom sighed. "And?"

"It belongs to Judy."

Brass squinted. "Judy? Receptionist Judy?"

Greg nodded.

"Anything else?" Grissom asked.

"The garage attendant said that she wasn't driving the car when it exited. My guess is that Judy is not the kidnapper, but the one being kidnapped."

Grissom nodded. "I agree. I want you to account for every car in the garage, if one doesn't belong; I want to know about it."

Greg nodded and took off.

Brass looked at Grissom. "What do you think this is all about?"

"I don't know, but I don't like that the kidnapper felt comfortable enough to take someone from our own garage." Grissom looked away, a distant look in his eyes.

"It's a little too close to what happened to Sara, isn't it?"

"Too damn close." Grissom headed for his office.

His phone was ringing as he entered the office. He answered it with a grunt. "Grissom."

Sara's voice came across the line, and Grissom immediately felt his shoulders relax. The feeling didn't last; Sara's first words took care of that.

"Why is some woman slipping notes under your door?" she teased.

Grissom shook his head. "What do you mean?"

Sara laughed. "Exactly what I said, some woman slipped an envelope under your door."

Grissom's heart sped up. "Did she see you?" he asked tensely.

Sara paused, confused. "Uh, no, I just caught a glimpse of her through the peep hole as she started down the stairs."

"So you're sure she didn't know you were there?"

"Gil, I told you, no. The only reason I saw her is that I had come into the kitchen to find something to eat and heard a noise at the door. The lights were out and the door was locked. Now, can you tell me why it's important that this woman didn't see me?"

Grissom closed his eyes, relief spreading through him. "You know that case I've been working? Well, I've gotten several letters from the killer, and you were mentioned in them, or to be more precise, the fact that you weren't around was mentioned. It was the only positive thing about you being in California. I knew you were safe." Grissom paused, unsure if he should tell her about Judy. Finally, he decided there was only one thing he could do. "Listen, Judy was kidnapped."

"Oh my God! Are you sure?" Sara sat down on the couch.

"There's an eyewitness. He saw it happen. She, uh, she was taken from the garage." Grissom waited for her to acclimate to that news.

"From the lab garage?" Sara frowned. "But, how is that possible? The security there is top rate."

"I don't know. It doesn't help that it seems that she was taken by a woman."

Sara took a deep breath. "Do you think it has something to do with your case?"

Grissom sat down and gave it some thought. "I don't know. The person we're looking for rapes the victims… seems to indicate a man."

Sara cleared her throat. "I assume you have semen to back this up?"

"No, in fact we've determined that the victims were raped with a foreign object."

"So that means it could be a woman. Look, I don't want to think that this sicko has Judy, I wouldn't wish that on anyone, but, and I know this from first hand experience, women can be just as sadistic as men. Anyway, do you want me to bring you this letter, or do you want to come get it? If your serial killer took Judy, then maybe this will tell you something. If it's unrelated, maybe it will tell you that also."

Grissom knew one thing. "No, I don't want you coming here, not with this killer on the loose. In fact, it's better if no one knows you're back just yet."

Sara frowned. "But, I was looking forward to seeing the gang."

"Believe me, honey, I'd love that, but, just for now, I think this is best." He couldn't stand the thought of something else happening to her.

"Well, I don't like it, but I can see your point. So, you'll come here to get the note?"

Grissom shook his head and said, "No, I can't afford to leave here right now. Why don't you open it and tell me what it says."

"Okay, hold on." Sara opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. "It says, _'From under your nose I stole a rose, she sleeps now in peaceful splendor, but she'll soon awake for her penance, the price she pays for sins untold, then to sleep eternal I'll send her once more, her now cleansed heart in hand, laid bare beneath the sun, her last defenses stripped, fetid guts exposed for all to see, and, you dear man of law, shall race against time, forever trying to stop the purge, but destined forever to fail.'_

"Wow, does that make sense to you?" Sara asked, taken aback at the imagery in the cobbled together poem.

Grissom was silent for several moments, unable to speak. Finally he cleared his throat and replied. "I know the prose is bad, but the message is loud and clear, the killer has Judy, and we don't have long to get her. I'll have to come home and get that letter after all, it will be needed for prints."

Sara frowned, "But my prints are all over it, there's no way to keep my being back a secret."

"I'll handle the printing myself and try to keep your name out of it. I don't really expect to find anything, I haven't on the other notes, but I can't not try."

"Okay, well, I'll have it ready when you get here." Sara laid the letter down on the table and looked around for a sandwich bag as a temporary bindle.

"I don't know when I'll get there, so if you get tired go ahead and get some sleep, just leave the letter on the kitchen table," Grissom said, standing.

Sara nodded, and then said aloud. "I don't know if I'll get any sleep, knowing that Judy is out there in some killers clutches, but with nothing else to do, I might give it a try."

"I know it'll be hard for you not to be involved, but it really is for the best.

Sara sighed, "I guess you're right. Well, if I'm awake, I'll see you when you get here."

* * *

"Just a couple more and you'll be free," Judy whispered as she sawed her tapped hands against the underside corner of a metal counter. At least that's what she thought it was. There wasn't much light in the room, and though her eyes had adjusted a bit, she still couldn't make out everything. Her knee ached from where she'd banged it into the floor when she'd scooted off the table she'd been lying on. Her feet hadn't been able to keep her steady as they were taped together also. She'd finally been able to make her way to the place she was now and had felt her way up the leg of the table. She knew it was metal and she had hoped that she would be able to cut through the tape on her hands. That had been long minutes ago, and now she felt as though she'd been kneeling there for hours, her shoulder ached from wrenching her arms up and backward in order to reach the rough under edge of the table.

Without warning the last bit of tape snapped and she fell forward, banging her head on the floor. She lay there breathing harshly for a few moments before flipping over and using her tender hands to push herself up to start work on the tape at her ankles.

It took less time to accomplish this task and before she knew it she was free, or free of her bonds anyway, she soon found out she was still trapped as the door was locked.

Groaning, she turned and faced the room. She felt along the wall and found a switch and flipped it. Bright lights came on in an instant, causing her to cover her eyes quickly.

Slowly she peaked through her fingers, letting her eyes adjust to the light. Her eyes ached from the brightness, but she was at least able to see around her now.

The sight of her prison did not calm her. The room was clean to the point of being immaculate. The floor was checkered and lacquered to a high gloss, along with all the stainless steel furniture, which gave the room a cold, menacing feel. In the center of the room she saw the table she'd been lying on. Her stomach clinched as she saw the tunnels running along the edge of the cold steel table.

She remembered with icy clarity what Doc had said about the victims of the 'Back Nine Killer' being bled after they were dead.

Panic began to set in and she closed her eyes and made herself drag in deep, even breaths.

Once she was somewhat calm, she opened her eyes again and looked at the room closer. There was a door on the opposite side of the room and she hurried to it, surprised when the handle turned easily.

Her excitement didn't last, however, as she soon discovered that the door led, not to freedom, but to a closet.

The closet wasn't empty. On the shelves that lined the walls were bags and bags of some sort of liquid. She picked up one and read the label on it. "Methohexital," she read aloud, and her heart sped up again because this too she'd heard of. The victims had been subdued with it. Her eyes traveled around the shelves and she counted at least thirty bags.

Judy looked back out toward the clean and shiny torture chamber. She may not be able to get out, but she could make it as hard for her killer as she could. She began grabbing the bags of solution and ran over to the metal sick. She ripped open each one and watched the deadly liquid run down the drain.

* * *

Grissom fingered the letter in its plastic bindle as he watched the rest of the team file into the room.

Catherine came in first, followed by Nick and then Warrick.

"Where's Greg?" Grissom asked when it became apparent that no one was coming in after Warrick.

Catherine swept her hair behind her shoulder. "I asked him to go back out to the retirement home to see if he could find out more about Daisy Collins, you know, where she lived before the retirement home, maybe we can find an old neighbor who could tell us more about her 'daughter- in-law'.

Grissom looked at her over his glasses. "That actually may be a good idea." He held up the bindle with the letter in it. "I received another note, delivered to my home, and I'm afraid it indicates that Judy was taken by our killer."

Their reactions varied, but it all came down to one thing; shock.

"I can't believe that. Can I see it?" Catherine reached for the letter.

Grissom handed it over and continued. "Someone… a neighbor, saw a woman slip it under my door and called to let me know. She didn't get a very good look at the woman, but she said she was short and had blond hair. That fits the description we got from our garage witness, Charles Dudley. So, I think we're looking for a woman, most likely the woman who claimed to be Mrs. Collins' daughter-in-law."

Catherine looked up from reading the note, her eyes wide. "Again?" she said, shaking her head. She suddenly stilled, her hand going to her mouth. "Oh my God, I think I know who we're looking for." She began to flip through the file in front of her.

Warrick stared at her. "Well, don't just leave us in suspense, who is it?'

Catherine looked up. "Gina Harnois."

* * *

Once Judy was finished emptying the bags of drugs, she looked around for something else to do. She opened cabinets, finding them empty, except for the last one. This one caused her panic to return.

Inside the last one were two boxes. She opened the first, and smallest of the two, and found needles and tubing. She pushed it away and pulled out the second box. She lifted the lid and gulped. Inside lay a large dildo, complete with straps. She backed away and stared at it, remembering that the women had been sexually assaulted, and now, from what she was seeing, she had the feeling that she might not be dealing with a man.

This brought an odd sense of relief to her. She had been imagining fighting off a man who would have been too hard for her to fight off, but thanks to her self-defense classes, she felt she had a better chance against a woman. She just had to clear her mind of what had happened to those other women, and keep reminding herself that she was luckier. She wasn't restrained anymore, and she may be able to take her captor by surprise.

A noise from the other room told her that she didn't have much time to wait.

* * *

Greg ran into the lab and hurried to the layout room. He saw that everyone was still gathered there.

"…hell is that?" Warrick was saying.

Greg charged in, talking over them. "You're not going to believe what I found out!"

Everyone turned to look at him and he cleared his throat. "Sorry, but this is important."

"Well, go on Greg, tell us what you found out," invited Grissom.

"Okay, so, I went back out to Golden Hills and talked to Mabel again. She told me that Daisy went to live there after her husband died, and that she had talked about how she was glad to be there because she hated living above the dead people. Mabel asked what she was talking about, and it turns out that Daisy's husband was a mortician… and he owned his own mortuary, which they lived above. Well, she never sold the place, it just sat there, empty."

"And what does that have to do with the case?" asked Nick.

Greg rolled his eyes. "Hello? We know that the victims had been drained of blood, and no trace of it had been left at the scenes… Well? What better place to do that than at a mortuary?"

Catherine nodded. "And who would be able to do that better than someone who had trained to be a doctor?"

Grissom turned to her. "Are you saying that this Gina…?

"Gina Harnois; yes," Catherine nodded.

Warrick shook his head. "Again, who is Gina Harnois?"

Catherine and Greg answered together, with two different answers.

"Bell's secretary!" exclaimed Catherine.

"The daughter-in-law!" Greg shouted.

"Exactly!" Grissom proclaimed.

"Huh?" asked the group together.

"Don't you see? Gina Harnois and the daughter-in-law are one and the same. It makes sense; a car seen at the last scene that could only have belonged to the daughter in law…"

"And the fact that Gina lied about Bell being the one who smoked Virginia Slims, plus the fact that when I went by there earlier to talk to her some more I found out that she had quit a few days ago and no one had heard from her since. That's how I found out about the cigarettes. I asked a co-worker if they had seen Bell smoking and he told me that Bell didn't smoke, but that Gina did and he would miss having her as a smoke buddy," Catherine explained.

"Okay, but why is she doing all this?" asked Nick.

Grissom shook his head. "That's not our problem; all we need to do is find out how. We'll leave the why to Brass. Now, do we know where this mortuary is?"

Greg held up a piece of paper. "I have it right here."

"Okay, let's go." Grissom led the way out.

* * *

Judy hurled herself across the room and slammed her hand against the light switch, causing the room to go dark. Then, as silently as possible, she sank down beside the door, her back pressed to the wall.

She could hear a soft, womanly, humming coming through the door, and she held her breath, waiting for the door to open.

The soft _snick _of the lock caused her to tense even more. The door inched open and the humming got louder. The woman walked through the door and after a small _click _the room was bathed in light again.

The woman stood still for a moment, silent now in her confusion.

Judy clenched her fist and pushed herself up, slamming the woman back through the door as she rushed past.

Her heart began to sing as she saw the open door at the end of the room, but she was suddenly stopped short by a jerk on her hair.

Before she knew what had happened, she was being dragged back into the other room.

Judy twisted and jerked, trying to free herself, but she couldn't manage to it.

The woman cuffed Judy on her left temple, causing her to see stars, but she fought to keep her wits and clawed at the woman's hands and arms.

"I will not let you do this to me!" she shouted, and the woman turned and gave her a kick in the ribs.

Judy grunted but kept clawing at the woman's hand, not caring if she lost all the hair that she was gripping.

Judy worked to get her feet underneath her so that she could get more leverage. It seemed they had been struggling for hours, but it had only been a few seconds.

Just about to try tackling the woman, Judy lost her footing once more as the woman jerked her forward and pushed her headlong into the wall.

Wincing, Judy clutched her head, feeling a warm trickle of blood run down her forehead. She looked up and saw, through blurry vision, the woman aim a kick at her midsection. She had a second to prepare for it and then her breath had left her and she gasped, trying to inflate her seemingly paralyzed lungs.

"You bitch!" snarled the woman. She turned and walked toward the closet. "You're all the same, thinking you're better than everyone else." She opened the closet door and stood stock still.

Ignoring the pain, Judy pulled herself up and ran at her, pushing her into the closet and slamming the door shut. It would only buy her a little time, but she could use all she could get.

She ran toward the door, swinging it shut behind her. Now she got her first proper look at the room she was in and she lost her breath once again, this time due to horror. Glass cases were set up on pedestals in the middle of the room, highlighted by blue lights. Inside each one was the face of a previous victim, staring sightlessly out into the room.

A noise behind her brought her out of her frozen state and spurred her further into the room. She ran through the next door and was surprised to find herself in a room with couches and chairs placed around it in conversational groups, except that they were covered in dust covers and it didn't look as though anyone had conversed there in quite a while.

That didn't matter though, because across the room was a door, an escape to freedom. With a sigh of relief she ran to the door and twisted the knob with a sob. The relief didn't last; the door was locked.

Judy yanked at the door, twisting and pulling frantically. It wouldn't budge. She sank down to the floor, her body throbbing, her breathing raspy, her face covered in blood, her mind working as quickly as possible. If she couldn't get out, she was going to have to stall as long as she could. A noise behind her told her that her moment of respite was over.

"There's no way out. I'll give you this though, you're mighty feisty," the voice purred from behind Judy with no hint of the anger from before.

Judy slowly turned around and got her first good look at her captor.

She wasn't as tall as one would expect, not much over five feet. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders, ruffled from their scuffle. A smattering of freckles ran across her cheeks, and her eyes were a bright cobalt blue. In short, not someone you'd suspect of committing the crimes which she was so obviously guilty of.

"You know, it shouldn't be you, here, now. You are not the one I wanted. But, we don't always get what we want, and when she disappeared I had to find a new target. I thought long and hard about whom could take her place. There were several candidates. The Willows woman had to be discounted. The blond hair would never work." She fingered her own golden locks. "That Wendy chic would have worked but he didn't seem to care much about her, though if I'd had to use her I'm sure it would have gotten a response. No, I decided to use you when I saw him talking to you after my first letter was delivered. I was in the waiting room, no one ever suspects the small and weak looking. I saw him come to you and assure you that he wasn't angry with you.. I could see how much you looked up to him, and I knew that he'd care about your demise. Of course his lover would have been the best, but she just disappeared, and I waited, thinking she'd come back, but in the end it had to be you. Who would have guessed that you'd put up such a fight." As she talked, the woman paced back and forth, keeping her eyes on her cowering captive.

"Wh-who are you taking about? I- I mean who is this man you think will care that you've taken me?" stammered Judy.

"Why, Gil Grissom, of course." The woman stopped and faced Judy. "He has to pay. If it weren't for him Vince could be happy, and maybe he'd be able to see that he's not alone, that there is someone who cares about him, then he wouldn't have to see these sluts, these women that remind him of her, remind him of all he lost because of her insatiable lust. Like Gil Grissom is any better. He fell for a woman just like her. They even look like twins. How would dear Doctor Grissom react if his saintly Sara did to him what that slut Debbie Marlin did to Vince? What else could he do, you have to be who you are, do what makes sense. How can he be blamed for following his instincts?"

"I'm – I'm sorry, but what does that have to do with this?" Judy could be accused of being a lot of things, but she was always logical. "What do these women that you've killed have to do with any of that?"

"They're nothing but sluts!" Gina shouted. "And he falls for it every time, falls for _her_ every time."

"I'm sorry, but who is, _her?" _Judy couldn't help asking.

"That bitch, Debbie! He searches her out in every woman he meets, and they know how to get him. Hair and eyes the same shade; I've seen pictures of her, he keeps them locked up, but I've seen them, seen the shrine to her that he keeps locked away. And they come, these women, and he talks to them and imagines that they are her and he wants them- her…" Gina trailed off.

Judy gulped, knowing that she wasn't dealing with a sane woman. "And you want him, Dr. Lurie, for yourself?"

"I've given every thing up for him." Gina frowned. "I was going to be a doctor, I was going to medical school, working my way through as a receptionist at the hospital he came to after he was run out of his rightful place. He walked in and everything changed. He'd flirt with me, but he never took me seriously. I tried to forget him. I saw other men, but they always ruined everything, and I had to get rid of them."

Judy watched as the woman thought back, her mind in the past. She knew her only avenue of escape was to keep her talking, keep her mind off whatever plans she had for her, Judy. She looked around, trying to find something with which to gain the upper hand. She saw nothing.

"Then one day Vince announced that he was coming back here, back to the place where he had nearly lost it all. I knew I couldn't let him leave me, I needed him. He was surprised when he found out that I'd moved here, but I could tell he was pleased." A grin spread over Gina's face, but disappeared with the next thought. "But then he came by the office with that woman, that slut, and I could see that when he looked at her he wasn't seeing her, but Debbie. He'd never looked at me that way. I knew she had to go, but I couldn't just get rid of her, she had to pay, pay for taking him away from me. I brought her here, to that old bats old house and was so glad I'd made note of it when she died. That idiot I was engaged to never saw its worth. I can't call Mark a mistake, he made all this possible. "I-I made her pay," she frowned. "I took what she would give away so easily, pretended that I was him, tried to see what he saw in her."

"And what did you find out?" asked Judy, inching toward a window.

Gina's eyes snapped to her. "Nothing!" she barked. "They were empty! Useless!" There was a look of desolation in her eyes as she said this. "They couldn't give him what he needed, only I can do that, but… but he doesn't see that." She finished softly.

Judy hesitated, but forged on, determined to keep her talking. "There is one thing that really had us down at the lab confused," Judy licked her lips. "Where did the semen come from?"

Gina sneered. "What semen?"

"Uh, the investigators found traces of semen in the soil at the parking lot at the golf course –where the third body was found- where the car was parked. We- they couldn't figure out where it came from."

Gina looked confused for a minute, but then her face cleared. "I fucked a few men in my car, I guess the condoms fell to the floor after we were done and mixed in with some potting soil that had spilled there. It must have fallen out when I took the bitch out of the car."

"But, what about Mr. Bell?" Judy asked hesitantly, not wanting to set the woman off. "Why did you kill him?"

A grin spread over the woman's face and she giggled. "Oh, I was feeling horny one day and he was obliging, only then he became such a pest. Like he could ever be good enough for me," she made a face of disgust. "Like I'd ever want another man for anything other than the occasional screw. Finally, I'd had enough. I decided to give him one more trip to paradise, well, for me anyway." She ran her hand down her belly and between her legs, clamping them around it. "He lay there and willingly let me smother him. I came and he went, and he never saw it coming." She laughed.

Judy watched as she began to pace again, trying to quietly creep toward the window once more.

"No, he could have never taken Vince's place." She stopped and swallowed. "I could have made Vince see me- convinced him that I was the one for him… but that bitch came back, only she used a different name. He became obsessed with her, oh he never said anything, no, he didn't do that, but I could see it that day, the day _she_ came into the hospital." She kicked at a covered couch, causing dust to rise up.

Judy moved a few more inches and now she was in front of the window, she just hoped that it wasn't boarded up.

"The helicopter brought her in, all dehydrated and near death, and Vince watched from a distance, watched the man who had ruined his life pace as he waited to hear about the woman he loved. Vince has a journal on his computer," she seemingly switched topics suddenly, " It's password protected but it's not hard to figure it out if you know him, and I know him _very well_. He wrote about seeing her, of about how she made him feel and how much she looked like Debbie. It didn't take long for him to find another one, this one a cop to remind him of _Sara_. I couldn't let him throw himself away on a pale imitation of a copy, and she was just like the others, so pathetic, begging for her life. She was so worthless she died before I could even show her how worthless she was." She gave a cold laugh. "Well, she still got punished, just like all the others."

Judy saw her face clear as Gina turned and looked at her. Thinking fast, Judy asked, "But why me? I've never even met Doctor Lurie."

"I told you why!" she rushed over and stood in front of Judy. "The one thing that Vince always wrote about in is journal was how Gil Grissom ruined his life." She turned to pace around again. "And since the copy isn't around, I had to go to plan 'B'. I'll get rid of his little menagerie of people down at the lab, starting- with – YOU!"

She advanced on Judy but a splintering sound made them turn around. A group of armed men had burst in the door and were now filing into the room, followed by Brass, who was followed by Grissom and the whole nightshift team.

On seeing them, Gina screamed and ran back towards the room with her souvenirs.

Brass ran after her along with the other armed officers.

From the other room came a sudden bang which was followed by a series of pops.

Judy hid her head in her hands.

Brass called out for someone to call an ambulance.

Grissom knelt down beside Judy and put his hands over hers. "It's over now, Judy. You did a great job. I'm so proud of you."

Judy looked up at him and felt something inside burst, and the tears flowed. Grissom held her as she cried and the paramedics raced past them into the other room. They stayed there as the paramedics exited and let the coroners in.

When the tears had dried, Judy looked up and into the eyes of the team she worked with but barely saw. She smiled and said, "If this is what it's like for you guys all the time, I think I'll be happy to stick with being a receptionist, thanks."

"What? You didn't like being kidnapped?" Nick asked. "You didn't even get buried under anything." He grinned down at her.

Anyone over-hearing them would have thought them crazy, taking about kidnapping in such a light hearted tone, and with the kidnapper being wheeled away on a stretcher, her life ended, but they knew what was needed in this moment, what Judy needed to help her get though. She needed to know that life went on, and though you never knew what would happen, your friends would always be there for you, to make you laugh and make you forget.

* * *

Grissom let himself into the condo, and sighed with relief.

Sara looked up from the couch and smiled. "Thanks for calling to let me know Judy's okay," she whispered.

Grissom nodded. He walked over and sat with her. "It was tough on her, but I think she'll be fine, after a few days rest." He rested his head against the back of the couch. "Judy told us most of Gina's reasoning. It still makes no sense."

"Sometimes there is no sense, just what happens." Sighing, she sat up straighter. "I got a call. From a friend in San Francisco, do you remember me telling you about Michele?'

Grissom nodded.

"Well, it seems she's been arrested for that murder that happened at her club and she wanted to know if I could come back and help…" She watched as Grissom adjusted to this. "It wouldn't be for that long, but, I don't know, I feel like I should do this… you know, ease my way back into working."

Grissom took her hand and kissed it. "I understand you have to do what you have to do. I'm not going anywhere, not without you anyway, and you wouldn't be you if you didn't want to help a friend."

Sara smiled. "I love you so much."

"And I love you." He leaned forward and kissed her but pulled back quickly and sneezed. "Damn…" he sneezed again.

Sara felt his forehead. "You feel hot."

Grissom leered playfully, "Yeah, hot for you, baby."

Sara rolled her eyes. "And now I know you're sick; you only get that corny when you're running a fever.

"When are you leaving?" Grissom asked, ignoring the sudden itch in his throat.

"I told Michele that I'd head out tonight, but if you need me to stay here and nurse you, I'm sure I can put it off for a couple of days."

"No, no you should go, I'll be okay," he got out before he was racked by coughs.

"And you should go to bed. I'll bring you some tea, and climb in beside you for a nap. Are you hungry?"

Grissom shook his head. "No, but bed sounds like a good idea." He stood and headed toward the bedroom.

Sara watched him go before turning to the kitchen. "Well, Hank, you're going to have to take care of dad while I'm gone."

Hank lifted his head from where it was pillowed on his paws and lifted an eyebrow as if to say, 'Yeah, and who's going to take care of me?'

"I know I just got back, but I can't leave Michele on her own. I'll come back soon, I promise." Sara turned to the sink and filled the kettle. "You just make sure daddy takes care of himself, he won't forget to feed you, I promise."

Hank settled his head back down, his tongue lolling out of him mouth.

"I knew you'd understand." Sara grabbed a piece of paper and began to write down a recipe for mock chicken noodle soup. She secured it to the refrigerator with a magnet and turned to making the tea.

Carrying it into the bedroom, she found Grissom lying across the bed, nude, and asleep. She smiled and set down his tea.

Pulling the covers out from under him, she covered him and lay down beside him. Brushing his hair out of his eyes, she kissed his cheek. "Sleep and dream of me?" she whispered and closed her eyes and joined in slumber.

**The End**


End file.
